The Grimoire
by SiSiren
Summary: Katherine René Opsal is a shy, muggleborn witch, filled with social anxiety. When she was accepted into Hogwarts, the bullying began, but so did the coming of the truth. A truth that includes a book, Death, and heritage. Include love in the equation, in her destiny, and she may just implode.
1. Chapter 1

Rain was lightly falling, as was typical on a London Spring night. Despite the city buzzing every single hour of the day, time seemed to have stopped. Nature hadn't, but there was no sound this night, as if for once, everybody in the city stopped. Stopped snoring, stopped shuffling, stopped breathing. Dogs barked at the door, waiting for their owners to let them out; cats jumping up on beds; pawing at legs; rats scouring in their cages, yet no one woke.

And because of this inhumane silence, a person running down the street is noticeable. The pounding of their footsteps and silent, quick breaths became a loud and known sound throughout the silent city. This person seemed out of breath, any sense that had been there left his mind.

The person was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, one for the college he went to, the hood creating a shadow which fell upon the face. They sported dark, black in the street light, jeans covered in light coloured paint. They wore black sneakers, the sound of rubber slapping against the wet pavement being the most audible sound.

They were short for someone in college, just barely reaching five foot five inches, and was drowning in the sweatshirt, though that didn't stop them from running.

There was an object bundled up in a blue cloth in the runner's arms, non-moving. Inside this cloth was a book, one if which he had found lying on the sidewalk on his way home.

Despite other people passing it, nobody took their eyes from the devices in their hands, all bustling to and from places.

A person had snarled at them when they had stopped and bent down to pick up the book, a black leather-bound book with golden, lettering written in calligraphy, and yellowing pages. The first five pages had no text in it, making the person wonder if it was completely empty, a journal of some type, though on the sixth page it exploded into chicken-scratch, in German, that could barely be deciphered.

The person managed to read the title of the page, glad he had taken German in school, it read, _Schlafende Flüche,_ the first line reading, _Zwölf Stunden Schlaf._ The people around them stopped moving, the street lights stopped working, and cars drifted aimlessly to a controlled stop, at least for a small moment. After that moment, everything robotically started moving again, the people moving like roots, all in perfect sync. As if in a trance.

The person tripped, the book flying out of their hands as they instinctively released it to catch themselves. The hood of their sweatshirt fell, revealing a man in his early 20's with dark brown, almost black, hair, which-like his pants-was covered in paint. The dark brown eyes could be seen now that his hood had stopped covering his face. A crooked nose was scrunched up as his lips were set into a thin line from the surprise of the fall.

His mouth formed the shape of curse words, yet no sound came out. He stood up again, picked up the book off of the ground, the cloth completely soaked, and kept to a slow jog.

As the adrenaline wore off from the run, he could now feel the burning of his legs and lungs, making him contemplate if he should sit down for a minute. He silently cursed himself for living a two hour walk from his school, and for not owning a car. He really should've taken the offer for living on campus. And then he cursed himself for that. He couldn't have taken the offer anyway, and if he did he would have never found the book. But maybe that would be good?

Finally breathing out a sigh just minutes later, he reached the road of which his house was on. _Baker Street_ Street. Some fangirl had adopted the street and named it after the street Sherlock Holmes lived on, just two years ago when it was still Clareken Street. He had lived in flat 22 before the name change. Though halfway through that year, he started renting a two bedroom flat, his girlfriend-Sophia-moved in with him.

Her face flashed in his mind, a pained grimace appearing on his face. It hurt to remember her, even now. Just nine months ago, she had died giving birth to their first, and only, daughter. Even though it happened almost a year ago, it still hurt to think about.

His pace sped up as he thought of the eerie silence, wondering if his, already quiet, daughter and flamboyant, cheerful babysitter had become just as quiet as the neighborhood, as robotic as everybody else. If they had frozen up in that single moment.

The man ran upstairs, ignoring the red _"LATE"_ notice taped to his door, and froze right as his hand touched the knob.

What if the two had frozen? What if it doesn't stop? What caused this? The book, safely tucked under his left arm, warmed slightly, as if it was right by a fire. And yet, the motion of the book sent a thought running across his mind.

Was it him who caused it? It would make sense, it _was_ right after he said those words. But just words cannot cause something like this.

How can he reverse it?

A crash to his right alerted him, and made the man jump. There, he noticed a tabby cat, sitting stiffly though its tail was swishing. There were square markings around its eyes, forming a shape that resembled glasses. It seemed to be staring through him and at the book, making him shiver.

That cat is creepy.

He shook his head before entering his flat, bracing himself for whatever may be waiting for him.

And he was relieved to find Evan-the babysitter-sleeping on the couch in a sitting position, his hand on the crib railing, and the telly set on low, some cartoon with minor violence playing.

Evan was a neighbour, age 24, and going to a university nearby the flats, but typically only had classes on the weekends. He had layered, blond hair that faded into a light brown, and bushy eyebrows-that he claimed he didn't care if were plucked or not-and on top of that, he was wearing a black shirt and skinny jeans. All in all, the man thing that got the man to give a job to this older man to keep his daughter safe, besides him being trustworthy, was that he was gay.

The man walked up to Evan, softly shaking him awake.

Evan's eyes snapped open, revealing an unusual golden colour, and his left hand going to his boot. His right hand grabbed the man's forearm, and squeezed before relaxing once he saw who it was.

"Oh, hey, Adam," Evan said, slowly pulling his hand away and rubbed the back of his neck. "Heh, sorry about that. I must've," he yawned, immediately covering his mouth, "f-fallen asleep. At least Katherine's asleep as well." He stood up and smiled at his mute friend.

Adam quickly picked up the paper and pencil he left on the table, simultaneously setting the book he was carrying down, still in the cloth, and quickly wrote his response down. "Yeah. Sorry, I was taking a walk around the block and sorta got distracted."

Evan took a minute to read it before smiling. "Hey, it's completely fine. You know how I love watching Katherine! Anyway, I best be going. Might as well try to gain some more sleep before tomorrow, yeah? Goodnight Sunshine." Evan waved, addressing Adam by his nickname, and left the flat, closing the door behind him.

Adam walked over to the door and locked it, before going to the couch that Evan was just sleeping on, a gentle smile on his face.

He would be lying that after this year, he had not developed a slight attraction to Evan. He was nice to look at and he was always cheerful. And he was there for every second that he had felt alone when Sophia passed. Evan was a shoulder to cry on, and helped take care of Katherine. Adam himself knew nothing about parenting, but Evan, having three younger siblings-two girls and a boy-helped Adam.

He peered at his daughter from over the bars of the crib and smiled. She had auburn hair, just slightly curled, that was already fading to brown, just like Sophia's did. She had a crooked nose just like himself, and a black eye from trying to walk and falling into the chair legs. She was determined, though, to walk.

Actually, amazingly she had been advanced for a child, crawling at six months, and just last month taking her first steps. Now, she has been holding onto anything stable to help her navigate, and is determined to walk without support.

Adam was proud of her, though almost alarmed at how fast she was growing and how much he had already missed. Evan was the one there for her first step. He was the one to teach her words, and still is, the first one to hear her first word.

Her first word was Evan's name, not daddy. Not mommy. It was the name of his best friend. His-now-crush.

He glanced at his daughter again, before curling into a ball where Evan was before and set his hand on the crib, rocking it back and forth, tears at the edge of his eyes.

That night, he fell asleep crying, not knowing what was going to happen, and forgetting about the book that lay on the coffee table in front of him.

As Evan walked out of Adam's flat, he looked around-though he knew no one was around-and reached into his boot and pulled an object out. It was a thin stick, whittled and rolled into smooth wood.

Evan waved his wand, relaxing instantly and feeling rejuvenated. It was a charm he had made in his third year to help with his insomnia. He used it almost every night until the nurse caught him and scolded him. That was a terrifying moment.

Almost two hours ago, he felt a burst of magic that had made him tense. Not only that, but it had made a crying Katherine fall asleep immediately, and his typical caffeinated self to feel drowsy.

He had recognized the feel of magic almost instantly, and had figured out-because of how light the spell was-it was cast throughout the entire city. All muggles would be in a death-like sleep, the only conscious creatures being animals and wizards.

He looked back at the Opal's door, wondering how Adam could be awake. Evan knew for certain he want a wizard, he would've felt his aura as soon as they got close, and there would've been some sort of magical item around the house. And he most definitely wasn't a magical creature, again, there would have been some sort of sign.

The only person who would've stayed awake could be the one to cast the spell, but even _if_ Adam knew about magic, how could he know all of the characteristics? He had even stated that his school life was hell up until this point, that couldn't possibly describe a wizarding school.

Evan stood, staring at the door and pondering. If anyone did see him, they would see him staring blankly at a door, reconsidering his friend choices.

"Mr. Smith," a voice from behind him spoke, making him jump. He turned around quickly, pointing his wand out in front of him. There, was an older woman looking at him. "Mr. Smith, I sincerely hope you weren't about to hex me instead of helping me with this problem we have. Hopefully you won't be staring at the door the entire time either."

Evan quickly got over his surprise and lowered his wand, smiling. "Minerva, it is nice to see again! How is my favourite professor doing? And no, I don't plan on hexing you or staring at their door, I was just thinking."

Minerva was a strict looking person, her black hair pulled into a tight bun and green eyes framed by square glasses with a tight lipped look. She wore a green cloak with the hood down.

Minerva raised an eyebrow, "If you must know, Mr. Smith, I am doing well, except that all of London has fallen into a death-like state."

Evan shook his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes as he did so, "Yeah, I know. I'm just wondering who started it and how it can be reversed."

"Your friend there seemed to have a good idea, Mr. Smith. He was the carrying the book that had the spell," McGonagall stated, glancing at the door.

Evan's eyes widen, and he seemed at a loss of words. "A-Adam? Him being able to do magic? He's as likely to do any sort of spell as Filch. He doesn't even believe magic exists! How would he even get ahold of that book? It makes no sense!" His voice got slightly louder as he started pacing the floor, something he did when he got nervous.

"Mr. Smith! I _need_ you to get that book from your friend! A muggle is not permitted to have such items!" Her voice never raised, but it was clear that she was doing her best to stay patient with her past student.

Evan wiped a hand down his face, weighing his options. "Fine, I'll do this. And what if there is no counter for it? Do we just wait? Plus, Professor McGonagall, you owe me now."

He turned to the door, not waiting for a reply, and flicked his wand, the door unlocking without any noise.

He waited a minute, slipping his wand into his boot, and walked through the door, cringing when it creaked. He held his breath before pushing it open the whole way.

There, curled up in the spot he was just dozing off in, was Adam, both arms tucked into his body like a child. Evan's have swelled at the thought of him being a child, and smiled, before his face fell again.

He recounted the actions Adam took when he came in just an hour ago. Even though Evan was asleep, he knew Adam's routine by heart, always doing the same actions when he came back late.

Adam typically came in, left the door open to air out the flat, set whatever he had been carrying on the table, and sent Evan home, meaning the only place could be the table.

Evan walked closer to the low-lying table in front of the couch, looking for any book that looked remotely suspicious. But, no, the only books in the vicinity of the table were textbooks and also baby books. Papers and late notices, also multiple pens and pencils.

Adam twisted, curling up more into a ball, before sighing. Whatever he was dreaming about certainly wasn't pleasant. Though, Evan stopped worrying about his friend when he noticed Katherine was awake and owlishly staring at him. Her blue-gray eyes seemed to stare directly into his soul and further as she kept glancing at something behind him.

Evan glanced behind him, making sure there was nobody or no thing there, before starting a staring contest with the toddler. Chances are, she wouldn't remember a thing, she was too young to retain memories.

Katherine was the one to break the mini staring contest, as she fell back down inside the crib. She clapped several times before messing with something inside of the crib, the sound of crinkling paper filling the air.

Curious, because Adam would not give her real books yet, he stepped forward, close enough to see the black leather book's pages being turned and crumpled by small fingers.

Eye's widening at the sight, Evan grabbed the book from the young girl, and quickly shushed her whimpers. She wasn't happy that he had taken away something new to be groped and prodded.

Though he was sure Adam was soundly asleep and under the same spell as the rest of the muggles, he cast a silencing charm on the infant, before leafing through the pages.

The first five pages were blank, but the rest was scrawled writing in messy handwriting, and in a foreign language-which Evan assumed was German.

He looked at a confused Katherine, whom he smiled at causing her to do the same. He set the book back on the table and quietly left, forgetting to take the charm off of Katherine.

From outside, Evan locked the door and turned around back to McGonagall who was patiently waiting. She looked expectantly at him, her look saying everything. 'Well?'

"The spell wears off naturally in twelve hours, meaning we only have to wait seven and eight and a half more," Evan explained, and scratched his arm lightly. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was forgetting something.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "And the book? Where is it?"

Evan nodded back to the door, the notice still taped on it. He'll have to help out Adam again with his bills. "I left it with them," he said, before rushing out an explanation before Mcgonagall asked why. "I'm pretty sure his daughter, Katherine, is a witch anyway. Might as well have a head start."

He could see that McGonagall was angry with his decision, though there was no major outward change, her eyes hardened. "Mr. Smith. I don't think you realize how much that book is of importance and should not be kept watch over by a muggle and his infant daughter." Her voice was steady, making Evan flinch and bring his hands forward in a "peace" gesture. He _was_ never good when anyone was disappointed in him.

"I-I understand its importance, Professor." He mentally cringed at his stutter and the use of the word "Professor". He was no longer her student and-if he wanted to-could not call her Professor. "I just don't feel comfortable with stealing from one of my friends, and if anybody tries, they'll have to deal with me. I'll look after both my friend and the book, if that makes you feel any better. I won't let them see magic either, I swear." Evan stopped talking and took a deep breath.

McGonagall was taken aback-though did not outwardly show it-and smiled at her ex-student. "I'm glad to know you still have your wit and Hufflepuff loyalty. Fine, they may keep the book nobody-except us two-have been able to trace the power anyway. It's too foreign to do so, just make sure something like this doesn't happen again, okay?" From there, she disappeared with a distinct "pop" as Evan breathed out a sigh of relief.

Oh what his friend gotten into?

(3149)

 **Fun Fact #1:**

 **This was originally going to be called "Modern!", mainly because I got attached to the name. The story on Google Docs and paper is still called Modern!**


	2. Chapter 2

Ten years later, the book was still there, in possession of Katherine. Nothing had changed much about the house, except for one thing; there was another person living there. Other than that, late notices on the door and small table, the disassembled crip leaning against the wall, the couch, the two bedrooms were the same.

And yet, after ten years, everything had changed so much. There were more personal items around the house, pictures hanging on the walls-mainly of the two Opsal's, plus the new one, Evan-and a more roomy vibe.

Seven years ago, on the twenty-second of March, Evan and Adam had gotten married, Evan taking the Opsal last name. Katherine had been the flower girl, her hair braided intricately-thanks to Evan-and standing in a pale pink dress. That was a happy moment none of them could forget.

Both men had gotten their degrees, Adam's in art-the only true way to express himself-and Evan's in psychology, though neither of them put it to good use. They both worked as waiters at a local pub, but Adam was slowly rising to the position of manager. They both loved working there, loved bringing Katherine-who by this age, preferred to be called by her middle name (which was René)-over on days she had no "school". There, she earned small amounts of pocket-cash, most of which she has been saving up.

Speaking of René, she had been homeschooled by Evan's mother, a sweet lady that had-unknowingly to the boys-moved in the across the hall par McGonagall's request.

Mrs. Smith had taught the girl-who was a fast learner-everything she would learn in a muggle school, how to understand it better, and things beyond her years.

For Merlin's sake, she learnt about chemistry and could explain it in her fourth year, when she was only nine! She was a child genius in science and math, though other subjects, she was just a grade ahead.

Despite all of that though, René was quiet and modest, not begging for things that she wanted and kept a cool head in all situations. In fact, she reminded Evan of his shy, Hufflepuff self, though that was never brought up.

Though all her spare time had consisted of learning German, for two reasons. One was because she thought it was a brilliant language. Two was because of the book her dad had given her-more like she stole it. It was written in German and had a bunch of really freaky "spells" in the book. She couldn't believe that the dumbo who wrote it believed in magic, though she didn't dwell on that.

Today, though, was another day that she got up at 5:30, her inner clock blaring at her to get up, and stumble about her like an idiot before gaining her senses.

René glanced at the calendar that was pinned to the wall, and watched as the red marker picked itself up and crossed out yesterday's date. She had no idea how that happens, but everyday she wakes up and looks at the calendar, it does that.

She believed that is was just tricks, illusions, or some robotic idea that her Papa had set up. He was rather good at engineering, yet whenever she asked about it, he claimed it wasn't him.

René quickly glanced back at the calendar as her spirits lifted. It was the sixteenth of July, her eleventh birthday! She already knew it was going to be a good one, her favourite and lucky number being eleven. Everything seemed to be good for her when it happened on the eleventh.

She quickly got dressed, grabbing a _Queen_ band shirt and blue jeans, and threw her hair into a ponytail.

René knew her dad and papa didn't get up until 6:30, giving her an opportunity to make breakfast for the three of them; softly humming the tune to _Bohemian Rhapsody_ while she was doing so. It had steadfastly became one of her favourite songs.

She was done making the pancakes when Evan stepped out into the kitchen, stretching and yawning, though a smile pleasant.

"Really René, that smells delicious." He came over to the plate and snagged the one on the top, eating it plain. "And they taste good too!" Evan mumbled around the food, making the girl wrinkle her nose.

She shrugged, not voicing her annoyance at his disgusting manners before grabbing a plate and filling it with pancakes, drowning them in syrup.

"Where's dad?" she asked after her first pancake. Her voice was soft and hesitant, almost as if she was scared to ask that simple question. It wasn't as if anything bad was going to happen, she had social anxiety, even in front of the most comfortable people she knew. She always got this paralyzing fear when having to say something, though attention was worse. Most people that she met believed her to be overbearingly shy, which she also was.

Evan looked up from his plate of food, food of which he had nearly inhaled. "Adam had to go in at 4:30 this morning, something about how there weren't enough coworkers for the early morning shift. I'll be taking my regular shift." He smiled at his step-daughter before going back to inhaling his food.

René nodded softly, finishing her food quickly, before quietly saying, "I'm going over to Grandma's. I'll be back for lunch." She was halfway through the door, before a hand on her arm puller her back in, making her squeak.

"Not today René. You know what today is, today you just get to relax. Dad will get off of work and be back as soon as he can, okay? In the meantime, go relax and watch a movie. I'll let mom know that you aren't coming over." Evan let go of her arm and pushed her back toward the living room. "Trust me, you will need the relaxation before the surprise my friend and I have planned for you." With that, Evan left the flat, presumably to let his mom know René wasn't going to come over today.

René stood there in silence, blinking at the door her step-father had just exited. What was she to do now? she was looking forward to seeing her grandmother today. For an old lady, she was fun to hang out with.

She she stood there, her _Discman_ came to mind, the silence already killing to exit her mind. The pale yellow walls seeming to laugh at her as her fumbled footsteps hurried to her room.

Though she was quiet herself, René hated silence. It made her panic. There always had to be a sound somewhere, even something off in the distance. The silence would cause her brain to go haywire, and strange happenings following that.

Last month, for instance, she had lost her _Discman,_ and everything was silent, at least in her mind. In reality, she had been making an awful amount of noise, yet her brain wasn't processing it. She had destroyed her room trying to find find it, her hands shaking a ridiculous amount. She had misplaced it and was about to lose hope, when something gained her attention. It was a random feeling, making her turn around.

Right there in front of her, floating, was her _DIscman,_ headphones attached, and shaking.

René, ecstatic about finding it, didn't realize it had been floating, instead just relaxing into the music and her mind erasing that strange experience.

The year before that, when she had first received it, she kept forgetting about it, thought one time was worse than usual.

Both Evan and Adam had gone out for a date night, trusting René to be alone for those two hours. The silence was killing her as soon as they had left, making her go into a state of panic.

When the two got back, they found the telly smashed and the coffee table upturned. René was curled up into a ball in a corner, her mind racing. She had claimed it had "just happened" and Evan convinced Adam to not ground her.

Her grandmother suspected it was the mental walls that made her go crazy at times. Suspected that René built the walls at a young age.

"Keeps the memories, the thoughts, the information stored so it won't leak out of your head," her grandmother-Esther-had commented one day after witnessing one of her panic attacks. "However, since those ideas have nowhere to go, except to bounce off those walls of course, it'll build up and explode. With a distraction, it is much easier to stay under control." With that, Esther had smiled at René, and resumed her lesson of the Victorian Flower Language as if nothing had happened.

Right by her bed was her _Discman,_ her favourite _Journey_ C.D. already in it, and her headphones attached. Quickly grabbing it and starting to play the music, she turned to Susan in the corner, nodding a greeting.

Susan was an old woman who had died in the '70's. Brown hair, brown eyes, turned back to the ideal age of 26, the highlight of her life. Though, she still had the feeling of someone over eighty, she looked younger than René's parent's.

Two years ago, there was a teenage boy, red hair, green eyes, dark skin. He had seemed more depressed than someone you would walk by on the streets. On his arms were short, thin, red, lines, though were easily hidden by his long sleeves.

When asked by René what had happened, the boy smiled a sad looking smile and just told her to be happy.

For as long as she could remember, René could see and talk to the ghosts that were there, though not always. Only of her mind was similar to the state as she was in now. Always when she was panicking. Always when she was discombobulated.

At long last, Susan disappeared with a small wave, letting René knew her mind was calm, was silent, only filled by music. And that was how she stayed, still and listening to music.

A knock came at the front door, both of her parents back from work and handing out presents to the birthday girl.

Adam and René looked to the door in confusion. Esther had come by earlier, handed René a couple golden coins with a wink, wished her a happy birthday, and went back to her flat. It had caused a moment of confusion between the two, before Adam laughed it off. His mother-in-law was an eccentric, sometimes crazy individual who-at times-babbled on about creatures that didn't exist. If it weren't for her vast knowledge of subjects, she wouldn't be teaching his daughter.

Evan, however, looked to the door in excitement, his golden eyes sparkling as he jumped off the couch and bounded to the door like an excited puppy. If he was correct on knowing who it was, René and Adam should be just as excited as him. He had known René was a witch, it was easy to figure out, especially with her panic attacks and the calendar.

He yanked open the door without checking who it was, a smile present on his face. "Miner-" he stopped, his smile faltering and then falling as he saw who it was. "What are _you_ doing here?" Despite his typical Hufflepuff kindness, his voice was laced with uncertain hatred.

In front of him stood a man, taller than Evan and with greasy, black hair. His nose was hooked, unlike Adam's and had sickly, sallow skin. His eyes were black, cold and calculating, as if analyzing every move you made, trying to find a falter or mistake. He was wearing black robes that dramatically billowed behind him.

The man was so out of place in the white-walled hallway that it was almost comical.

Evan groaned, " _Snape,_ what are _you_ doing here?"

Snape, either didn't notice, or ignored the venom that dripped off of Evan's voice. In a monotone voice that was easily read as "you are an idiot", he replied. "McGonagall was busy with another muggle household, so Dumbledore apparently found it funny to send me here."

Evan groaned again, though softer this time, before opening the door up for him, silently cursing his kindness, and silently hissing at Snape, "If you do anything harmful to either of them, I _will_ hex you into oblivion."

Snape glowered at the shorter man. "Trust me. I don't even want to _be_ here in this pathetic house with your pathetic family," he snarled, and stepped into the flat.

The shock that was there when he stepped into the room was evident only in his eyes for a moment.

He had known Evan Smith when they went to Hogwarts. Yes, different houses, different years, but if you didn't know Evan Smith, you were living under a rock.

Evan Smith was an intelligent boy, learnt from his mother both muggle and wizarding studies. Not only that, but he was Head Boy and the Smith family was a wealthy, Pureblood family. Anything he wanted, he could have, yet he hadn't flaunted his wealth or blood.

Now though, from the state of the flat, it looked as if he hadn't used any of his wizarding money. Actually, there was no evidence a talented wizard lived here at all.

Pealing, pale yellow walls with cracked photo frames lining halls, takeout on the kitchen table, and a pile of dishes in the sink. It all disgusted Snape. A single wave of his wand and it would have been clean, but how Evan was acting before he had realized it was Snape, made him believe that he was happy in this pigsty.

The only clean area was the living room where two people-a girl and a man-were staring owlishly at Evan's demeanor and the person in the cloak, though the girl's eyes were more shy, almost scared.

All Adam saw in the man was cruelty, a sadist, a man who hates everyone, including himself. And then how Evan was snarling at the man, though was trying to hide it because it was the sweet, loving Evan of his, he was instantly worried. He tensed when the man's eyes flew over him and landed on his daughter.

René was better at reading people than her father, though this man that Evan entered back in with was harder than most. Like her, he had a mental wall, but it was cracking, she could see that in his eyes. Though more than that, she saw a tunnel of darkness, depression, of demons, and regret. Self-pity. Jealousy when his eyes landed on the two, though he hid it well with the violence in front.

Snape saw a father and daughter, their facial structure similar, though his eyes skimmed past the older man, landing on the girl next to him. The only reason _why_ he looked straight at her though, was because she was the subject of an inevitable, upcoming-though hopefully short-conversation.

The father had dark brown hair, already graying in some areas, and stubble on his cheeks. His eyes were dark brown, and even when he was sitting, Snape could tell that he was shorter than Smith. Which he thought was impossible, Evan hadn't grown from five feet seven inches since his fourth year.

The daughter though, beside having the same crooked nose and facial structure, bore no resemblance toward her father. Auburn hair that grew darker the more it went to the ends which stopped right below her lower back, and that was even in a ponytail. It seemed to wave a bit, going back and forth. Her eyes were gray, blue, almost silver in the light, and they seemed to have a wall behind the fear, confusion, and curiosity.

Evan awkwardly cleared his throat as he placed a hand on Snape's shoulder, where he shrugged it off instantly. "So, uh, this is-supposedly-Professor Severus Snape, he is a professor at the school I went to."

Adam stopped his spouse from saying anything else, and ignored Snape's smug look at the pathetic attempt to explain. He quickly signed, having a feeling Snape wouldn't be able to understand it. "You mean the school that is so secretive that you won't even tell us the name?"

Evan sheepishly nodded, "Uh, yeah. That one. It is called, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, or simply Hogwarts," he paused, letting that sink in. "And, well, René has been accepted into that school?"

The three stared at Evan, two in shock and disbelief, the last staring at him as ig he were an idiot.

Surprisingly, it was Snape to break the shocked silence. "If you two are just going to sit there like dunderheads, than I'll be leaving. You _do_ after all, have a _significant_ source," he growled out, slamming an envelope into Evan's chest. As soon as he did, he disappeared with a pop, leading the room into another shocked silence.

"H-how did you t-two d-do that?!" René exclaimed quietly, her voice raising just more than a shy whisper. Her eyes were sparkling, looking silver at how the light was shining against them, "I-it couldn't h-have b-been t-t-teleporting. Th-that would c-cause a rip in th-the universe." Her voice stuttered every now and then, her thoughts rushing around and her shy words couldn't keep up.

Adam looked shocked at his daughter, before nodding in agreement, though this time taking out a pencil and paper, and quickly wrote down a response. "Yeah, she's correct about that. The pop could have been a distraction or an illusion," he trailed off, before shaking his head. He was thinking about that night he had found the book. "Magic _can't_ be real," he added after a minute.

All Evan did was sigh and hand the envelope over to René, letting her study it as she did.

Written on the front of the yellowish envelope in emerald green ink was:

Miss K. Opsal

The Easternmost Room

24 Baker Street Street

London

Greater London

René quickly turned over the envelope, a purple seal meeting her eyes, almost looking like a coat of arms. A badger, an eagle, a serpent, and a lion, all surrounding a large, capital "H".

She ran her thumb over the seal, giving her goosebumps for some reason, before carefully opening it, the silence, for once, no bugging her.

She pulled the letter out of the envelope, holding it gently, almost afraid it would break and crumble into ash.

Though she could read pretty fast, she slowly read the words, analyzing each and every one, trying to decipher if it was a prank or not.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Miss Opsal.

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts

School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary

books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

 _Deputy Headmistress_

After reading the letter multiple times, she handed it off to her father who quickly read it and wryly smiled. Questions ran around in both of their minds, but René quickly pulled out the next-and last-parchment, slowly reading through it.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plan robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_

by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_

by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Draughts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_

by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students mays also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

René's mind raced as she thought of the possibilities. This was too bizarre to be real, witches and wizards, with wands, potions, cloaks, broomsticks. Magic in general couldn't possibly be real, but her mind trailed up to her room, where under her pillow was the black, leather-bound book in German.

It was too bizarre to be real, but it was too bizarre to _not_ be real. The subject of magic, performing magic, would break every rule of science she learnt so far. It would ruin all thoughts of logic, but then again, since she had been little, René had known magic to be real.

In the deepest part of her soul, something sparked that made her smile, the biggest one the boys had seen.

"It's real," she said, a smile upon her face. "I-I can t-tell by that P-Professor's r-reaction. H-he s-s-seemed too ann-noyed for-r it ti b-be a-a-a pr-prank." Her mind was spinning as she looked at Evan.

He was standing there, a smug but proud smile on his face. He knew she would believe him at least. What was best though, was throughout the silence, she hadn't panicked. Yes, he did see her eyes begging for her knowledge to be let out, yes, her hands had been fidgeting with the end of her shirt, but she hadn't lost control.

And, since she had been surprised to see that, yes, magic was indeed real, she hadn't been _too_ shy to talk. Just knowing about magic was changing her.

Adam quickly held up a hand, before signing his message. "I guess if René believes it, I should too. But what about this owl?"

Over they years, Evan had learnt BSL or British Sign Language, which helped both Adam and René. Adam could finally talk to Evan, and when René couldn't have her music-when she was working or showering-she had another outlet.

"I do believe mum still has mine from years before. Wizarding owls tend to live longer than a regular owl. If it isn't in the flat, it may be in the family mansion with dad," he paused, seeing the bewildered looks upon their faces. "Oh, I may have forgotten to mention that I'm rich? I swore I would not talk about magic though, so," he trailed off with a small, sheepish smile.

Adam gave his spouse a dark look before signing, "We will talk later," in a slow, intimidating way. He seemed final about it, almost scary looking. It intimidated Evan into nodding though.

He looked back at his daughter, a proud smile on his face. "We can send the letter tomorrow and go shopping on Saturday, okay? Evan'll have to guide is though." He sent a pointed look at him, before smiling.

Evan nodded, as did René, though René had calmed down majorly. She seemed so different from a few minutes ago, but that was to be suspected.

Evan grinned before quickly going to the fridge and grabbing something out of it.

When he returned, he looked at René. "I don't think we've done this for a year, so," he gestured to the object in his hand. "Cake anyone?"

(3969)

 **Fun Fact #2:**

 **In 1991, Harry Potter's birthday was _not_ on a Tuesday, but rather a Wednesday. That also means that René (Katherine) is exactly two weeks older than Potter.**


	3. Chapter 3

Renè was proud to say that she was a witch. It was still foreign to her to say too often though. Two days, thirteen hours, and five minutes didn't make a difference. Three thousand, six hundred sixty minutes, and yet everything had changed in that simple half hour.

Adam hadn't talked to Evan much, indicating that he was mad at Evan for not sharing the wizarding world before then. Yes, Adam was extremely proud of his daughter, and yes, it was shocking. No, he wasn't _mad_ at Evan for keeping this from them, actually he understood it perfectly. He would've probably done the same to protect the two of them, but not _everything_ had to be kept a secret. He understood though.

Evan had been depressed since then, his sunlight had been taken and had stopped talking, but he put on a show for Renè. Of course he was proud of her, he was ecstatic to finally have her know about her being a witch. The actual reason of _why_ she had those panic attacks. Too much magic being bottled up, it explodes. He couldn't possibly wait to hear what house she made it into, what friends she made, how she liked the classes. He could almost be as excited as she was, and from her usual, quiet self, she was more energetic, yet still quiet, but more upbeat.

Since finding about the magic, she had bottled up questions upon questions, almost exploding at dinnertime. She had studied the list of items she had needed multiple times, fantasizing about everything. She had mainly hid in her room, too scared for it to turn into a prank. Too scared to be around people who were her age. What if she wasn't liked? How will everybody react when an almost mute, shy girl comes to this magical school?

Though thankfully, the silence hadn't been bugging her as of late. Yes, she still freaked out at the silence, but she hadn't fully gone into a panic attack yet. She did carry her _Discman_ around, a new _Pink Floyd_ CD in it, given to her just days prior. At least her hands had to be signing quickly, something normal and some kind of outlet. Though the magic wasn't popping anymore, at least as often, the words still struggled to escape.

Besides fantasizing about the school though, she had looked more into the _Grimoire_ , the book of spells she had stolen years prior. Now that she knew that magic existed, Renè was reading more of that book, absorbing every bit of information. The information was stored in a new category; _Spells_ , and she thought it was possibly the best thing ever. The _idea_ of magic even existing was absolutely exhilarating.

Now, though, at 8:05 in the morning on Saturday, the there were all dressed, the two boys dressed in matching jeans, Adam wearing a plain white t-shirt, Evan in a plain blue, and both wearing flip-flops. Their hair was combed and tamed, yet Evan had decided it would be fun to dye his hair a bright red, catching people's attention as they walked down the streets.

Renè, however, wore a pair of basketball shorts with leggings underneath and a new _Dragon Ball_ t-shirt, her _Discman_ being carried in a purse. She didn't care _how_ weird she looked, she just wanted to see the magical world.

They waited for the Tube, none of them were wanting to walk for long, and at this time, weren't many people around. Adam was leaning against a wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets like a moody teenager. Slowly, he pulled them out and snapped his fingers gaining Renè's and Evan's attention.

"So, where exactly are we going?" he signed, gaining weird looks from passerbys. They didn't understand what he had signed, which Evan noticed as well.

A smile grew on Evan's face, happy that Adam was talking to him again, and quickly signed back, "Diagon Alley. It is the main wizarding shop. Everything that Renè needs will be there."

Adam nodded and shoved his hands back into his pockets, signifying he was done talking. He knew he couldn't keep that up for long, he wanted to talk to Evan, it hurt him to not talk to him.

Renè slowly lifted her hands, them shaking as her anxiety warned her to not say anything, especially something that was going to be a smart-arse comment. But her sass won out eventually, not without hesitation and mistakes though. "You mean like diagonally? Is it a play on words or just a coincidence?"

Evan blinked multiple times, processing the words, making Renè think she signed the words wrong or that she had said something wrong. That was, until he laughed and cheerfully said aloud, "I've never thought of that!" He paused and sobered his laugh, "Actually, I have no idea. We would have to go back a couple of centuries to know for certain."

Renè nodded and went back to messing with the ends of her shirt, the noise of the city welcoming her.

To be honest though, this was the first time she would have travelled further than a mile from her house. All the people, all the noise, it could very well be more stressful and dangerous than the silence. Her social anxiety was bad enough with just her family. Around millions of people-though in reality, right now, there were only a couple hundred-it was becoming worse than the silence. The only way to stop it without drowning out the world with noise? Fidgeting.

The ride into the busier parts of London was quiet, none of them breaking the silence and excited tension between the three. Nobody tried to speak to the three people either, their fashion being ridiculous, and the silence hovering over anybody nearby, threatening to suffocate them as well.

Evan was an amazing tour guide, getting the three to the place faster than a regular muggle, which he explained days prior, was word for non-magical people.

Purebloods, half-bloods, muggleborns, muggles.

"Purebloods," he had said, "are people who have two full blooded wizards. They typically don't associate themselves with muggles, thinking of them as inferior. Of course, some families, the Weasleys, Longbottoms, Potters, even us, the Smiths, we don't really care. We're all the same with just some minor adjustments.

"Half-bloods, typically, have one muggle as a parent and one wizard. These wizards are beautiful, mainly because they don't care about muggles and wizards. People are just people to them.

"The other type of half-blood is where there's a pureblood wizard and a muggleborn, and they conceive a child. It is like a fraction problem. One whole multiplied by a half would be a half." He had scratched his head before shaking it. "Sorry, that was more confusing than helpful.

"Anyway, muggleborns. They're pretty simple to understand. They're a person who has two parents who is neither a witch nor wizard. Somehow though, they obtained magic, probably a recessive gene carried." He had grinned, "They're my favourite, muggleborns. Always surprise you the most. By the way, that's what you are Renè.

"And lastly, muggles. To put it into the simplest form, they are ordinary. No magic in their blood whatsoever, and I find that bloody brilliant."

Of course, it had taken Adam and his daughter a couple of hours to get used to the terms. Once they did though,they seemed so familiar to them, as if they had grown up speaking them.

Evan stopped, waiting for the crosswalk, "We're almost there, another block or so and we'll be there."

It was a long light, and Evan kept talking to avoid the tension again. Albeit good, it worried him whenever it was completely silent, not even Adam signing.

And it was them, when Evan was explaining his favourite professor-"You're going to _love_ her."-was when both Adam and Renè noticed an orange glow around a woman, tinted with silver.

Brown eyes, dyed blonde hair, a black choker and a blue sundress. She was rather attractive, a pleasant smile present on her face as she held a letter in hand. A skip was in her step as she turned into a flat, disappearing from view. The glow was still there though, and as they concentrated more and more on the glow, they saw thinner, almost transparent glows around others.

They had crossed the street when Adam tugged on Evan's sleeve like a child, making the three of them stop. The people walking gave them annoyed looks, but just sidestepped them.

Evan opened his mouth, but was caught off by Adam signing, almost frantically.

"What does it mean if you can see glows around people? Specifically orange with a silver tint?"

The same question had been on Renè's mind as well. Each person had the same glow, yet some were brighter than others, but as far as Evan was concerned, there _was_ no orange glow. No glow around anyone in general. And, he had no idea what an orange glow meant either.

"Orange glow? I've never heard of anyone seeing an orange glow, but you may just be seeing people's auras," he paused, going back and searching through his mental storage of information, before shrugging. "Otherwise, I know nothing."

Adam nodded, thankful that Evan didn't ask _why_ he had asked. It was worrying, the glow's gave off an eerie feeling, and how Renè's eyes were now scouring everyone, he was sure she saw them as well.

They resumed walking, before stopping suddenly again, just a block later. They had stopped in front of a tiny pub that seemed to melt into its surroundings. People didn't glance at it, but rather the bookstore to the right of it and then the record shop, both of which, the boys had to keep Renè from.

"Well, this is it, the Leaky Cauldron and a gateway between the two worlds," Evan started, sneaking his way through the growing crowd and into the building, Adam and Renè trailing behind me.

Inside the building was dark, despite it being 9:43 A.M. and the sun being filtered out by black curtains. It didn't look to be taken well of properly, a small cover of dust in the corners and the curtains. It was shabby as well and some people looked as if they hadn't seen the sun in years. The clinking of glasses and low voices were the only thing that could be heard, but it still made Renè itch slightly.

Evan lead them through the pub, stopping at times to greet old classmates, and to introduce his husband and child. All of his friends seemed to love his two, but understood why they couldn't stay and talk for long.

They exited through a backdoor, entering into a small, brick wall courtyard where a trash can was and weeds popping up from the cement.

To be honest, it was quite seRenè, the silence was there, but so was muffled engine sounds and footsteps. Besides the garbage scent, the air was still easier to breathe than regular London air.

Adam turned to Evan, watching his movements for a while, the three standing there and breathing in sync, just enjoying the serenity.

They all waited a minute, before Renè slowly and hesitantly asked, "W-w-where are we?" She flinched at the end, her inner voice yelling at her for speaking up, but the seRenè air and the tingle in it calmed her mind more than ever.

Evan grinned a grin that the craziest of people would be jealous of. Instead of answering, he pulled out his wand from basically nowhere and faced the wall that the trashcan was against. He counted the bricks up, "One, two, three," and then to the left, "One, two." He then tapped his wand three times against that brick and stepped back.

The brick twitched and quivered as a hole slowly grew into the middle before expanding into an archway that was much taller and wider than the average human.

Renè stared in wonder at the archway, her hand trailing the bricks. _This_ shouldn't be possible. They practically made another place one, but the other buildings around weren't being affected. It was breaking so many laws of physics, they just made matter, atoms. _That isn't possible!_

Despite it all being illogical, she ignored it, forgot about all the science she knew and let the childish glee take over. She would just have to figure out everything later on where she could possibly ask a professor.

The shop nearest to the arch had a stack of cauldrons with a sign hanging over them. _"Cauldrons - All Sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter. Silver - Self-stirring - Collapsible._ Renè made a mental note to stop there to buy her cauldron. Buy. How much money of Evan's could she spend? Evan probably had a plan though, so she stayed silent.

The three stepped through the archway, it closing behind them as soon as they were a safe distance away.

When they stepped through, the entire air off magic hit the three of them, nothing physical happened, though they felt rejuvenated and more upbeat.

The shops nearest to them-besides Potage's Cauldron Shop-was an Apothecary and Eeylops Owl Emporium where hoots of-presumably-owls were coming from.

Shops around them sold the strangest of things, robes, spider eyes, spell books, bat spleens, quills, parchment. POtion items, cauldrons, herbs, wands.

And the people there were of the strange variety as well. Taller than seven feet, people shorter than four. Wide and thin, elf ears and regular. Sharp and dull teeth. BUt they all were wearing cloaks of all sizes to accommodate to their body type.

They stopped in front of a blindingly white building, taller than the average shops, and it seemed to be the center of Diagon Alley. Roads led to it from all directions, making the two think, _All roads lead to Rome._ There were white, marble steps that lead to the doors.

There were two high-standing, bronze furnished doors, similar to the type in fairy tale castles, or entrances to ballrooms. On either side of the door were two creatures dressed in a uniform of scarlet, trimmed with gold.

The creatures were dark in colour, almost an olive-y colour, and had a silver beard that was pointed. He was about a head and a half shorter than Renè, her being short for her age.

Before they climbed the stairs, Evan leant down toward his companions, "They're goblins. They don't care for mess and prefer it to be clean, so, please don't make a mess." He stood up straight again and walked up the stairs, Adam following and then Renè.

Evan gave the goblins a friendly smile, but the other two were too busy, processing what they have _seen_ so far, and they haven't _been_ in any of the shops yet. And yet, they were being introduced to _goblins._

The goblins bowed as they entered that set of doors, as if they had been taught to do it. The two didn't look happy though, instead, they looked as if they wanted to murder them all but was forbidden to do so.

They were met with another set of doors, bright and shiny silver this time, which brought a smile to Renè's face. One of her favourite colours was silver. Along with yellow and a deep blue.

On the doors, eye-level with Evan were words inscribed into them:

 _Enter, Stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Adam looked at Evan, signing quickly as his dark brown eyes held excited fear. "Is that real? Bloody hell, of course that's real, but is it true? Are there _really_ thiefs? And _what_ do you mean that there is more than treasure?"

Evan grinned, "Dragons." Renè sent him a hesitant, doubtful look before he sighed. "It is technically only _rumoured_ that dragons are kept, but dragons are bloody dragons! Who wouldn't be excited?" Adam and Renè shared a look, but trusted his judgement and continued walking.

The two goblins at this door bowed to them as they went through, the same looks upon their faces as the ones at the first door.

The next room was a _huge,_ ginormous marble, hundred of holes in the shape of tunnels in the walls clouded in darkness, which seemed as if they were going down into the underground. There were carts sitting at the top of some of the caves, presumably sitting on rails. Goblins were everywhere, counting gems and coins, taking wizards down into the tunnels, though many were sitting on these swervy bar stools behind a counter, dealing with witches and wizards, and calling others to lead the wizard down the tunnels.

Evan guided them to the shortest of lines, only two people ahead of them, and waited patiently.

"We really should've come on a weekday, most everybody would be at work," Evan commented after ten minutes of waiting. Apparently the woman in front of them was asking for a vault and had to go through paper upon paper. It took just about forever, and as the excitement wore off, the orange glow came back.

Some were brighter than others, but they all looked the same. It seemed, the more they got used to their surroundings, the more they saw the glow. It also seemed brighter covering older people, though some children had bright glows, and seem to disappear the younger they went.

The goblins, curiously, had a different glow-a greenish one-but it seemed to work the same.

Adam and Renè decided not to ask, instead they shared glances, conversing that way. They had learnt to do so when Renè was four and didn't understand sign language yet. It became useful over the years when she had started to develop social anxiety.

After half an hour of waiting, they were finally to the goblin, a high-posh looking one that had a nametag. It read;

 _Chief Executor: Jawhook_

He look at Evan, clearly sensing that Adam and Renè weren't experienced with this type of business, and asked in a gruff voice, "What is it that you need?"

Evan took out a tiny golden key and handed it to Jawhook, saying, "I need to withdraw some money from my vault. Number eight hundred eleven."

The goblin studied the key, holding it up to the light and testing the weigh, before nodding. "Hooklink! Guide these wizards to their vault!" He then averted his attention to a man behind them as a goblin led them away from the waiting line and towards one of the tunnels.

Hooklink clicked his fingers, the sound reverberating throughout the stone cavern. Seconds later, a minecart had come and stopped in front of them, Renè and Adam sharing a skeptical look before climbing into the cart, Evan climbing in after them, and Hooklink after him.

The cart drove off faster than the two anticipated. Evan held a calm look as he stared straight forward, Adam had closed his eyes and his face turned green as he clutched to Evan's arm. Renè, however, had squeaked when they first took off, but was now smiling and looking over the edge.

After a while, Renè forced herself to blink, her eyes dry but also producing tears as she got over her initial shock.

It took two minutes and thirty nine seconds for the cart to finally stop, Adam being the first one out, and collapsed on the floor.

"Can I walk back, please?" he signed weakly from the floor, before setting his arms back on the ground. He was breathing heavily and his face was pale.

Evan chuckled softly as he crouched and rubbed his husband's back. "You have to take the cart. It goes so fast so people can't memorize the way, and it also acts as a safety precaution."

Adam silently groaned as both his spouse and daughter stepped over his legs, slowly sitting up and regrounding himself.

Renè was the first to be at the vault door, studying it and trying to remember what she had read on mechanics last year. Of course, it soon hit her that _muggle_ mechanics probably didn't work, or at least on the "most-protected" bank. Especially since it is a _magical_ bank.

Therefore, she waited patiently, staring around and bouncing in place. To be honest, the grin on her face wouldn't go away, and the excitement was constantly there, sometimes overbearingly there. She hadn't felt this much excitement in her life, but this is just being all dragged out.

Hooklink took his time to come forward and unlock the vault, a sickening grin on his face. When he did unlock it, there was the sound of metal grinding and a patch of green smoke that billowed out. It made Renè back up and Evan to start coughing.

Down the way, they could hear the metal grinding as it echoed off the walls, capturing the sound again and again as it slowly faded.

Inside the vault were stacks of coins; gold, silver, and copper, all stacked in a meticulous array all grouped together. Trunks lined the left and right walls, signs leaning against them, labeled as: Evan's school books/materials, Averi's [Evan's father] old robes, Esther's old spell books. Trunks that went back generations.

Adam stared in awe, jaw dropped and eyes wide as he took in exactly _how_ wealthy his family was. Evan had briefly explained how much money he had, but Adam's imagination did not accumulate to this.

Renè, however, just stared with wide eyes, and stopped bouncing. She was studying all the coins, remembering them being explained in the Grimoire on a loose piece of parchment. If she had deciphered it correctly, the gold ones were called Galleons, the silver ones were Sickles, and the copper ones were Knuts. It was the global wizarding money.

Evan picked up a small velvet bag by the door and headed over to the coins. He grabbed at least three handfuls of each and stuffed them into the pouch before exiting the vault.

Adam was staring at Evan with a childlike awe, and slowly signed, "What are those?"

Evan reached into his bag and pulled out one of each coin. "The gold," he handed it to Adam, "is called a Galleon. The silver," this one was handed to Renè who studied it, "is a Sickle. And the bronze," he held it up proudly, "is called a Knut. Twenty-nine Knuts go into a Sickle, and seventeen Sickles make a Galleon. It is kind of hard to remember," he said, scratching his dyed-red hair-which was already fading-and took the Sickle and Galleon back.

Renè spoke up quietly, her words smooth for she was attempting to piece information together and was thinking slowly. "Seventeen and Sickle both have an 'S', and Knut and nine-from twenty-nine-both have an 'N' sound. At least then, you'll have an idea of where you should start." Her voice, albeit quietly, still echoed around the cavern, making her flush in embarrassment.

Evan blinked at her before laughing slightly, "Of course! That makes so much sense! At least there _is_ a far-fetched explanation or mnemonic to remember!" He stepped inside of the cart and patiently waited for the other three occupants.

Adam silently groaned and stood up, begrudgingly trudgingto the cart and being the last back in. He immediately curled into a loose ball and set his head between his knees. He signed without looking up, "Is there any spell to make this trip feel any better?" Before Evan could respond, the cart sped up and rocketed towards the entrance, leaving Adam's stomach behind.

It took just a few seconds longer for them to reach the top, the uphill acceleration taking longer despite it being magic.

As soon as it did reach the top, Adam jumped out again, moving faster than one would expect. His movements made Evan laugh and Renè crack a smile as Evan led them out of Gringotts and into the fresh air.

"So what do you want to get first? Robes? Books? Quills and parchment?" Evan kept rambling about anything she may need for her first year, and instead of answering, Renè ignored everything and went off.

She maneuvered the crowd so that she wouldn't be bumping into antone, but also had her eyes set on a particular place. Robes first, then books, then whatever absurd writing utensils she will need. The two men trailed after her, Adam having to pull Evan.

She finally arrived at a robe shop, _Madam Milkin's Robes for All Occasions,_ nobody really bothering with the shop, but then again, everybody was already wearing robes.

A woman-who Renè believed was Madam Milkin-greeted her. She was short, just barely reaching five feet, and also was quite round, to put it nicely. She was constantly smiling, a habit of dealing with customers.

"Hello dear, here for school robes? Hogwarts?" Before Renè could respond in any form, the woman had whisked her away to start measuring and sizing her up.

Even this slightest attention was enough to make Renè's face flush slightly and regret her decision of running off. She knew her fathers had followed, but she had no idea where that small burst of confidence came from. Her mind was now itching to have the sound of music. Instead, she messed with the hem of her shirt, until she got reprimanded for doing so.

A quarter of an hour later, Renè walked out, a bag on each arm filled with robes, glad that before she ran off, she snatched the pouch of coins off of Evan. Though, she was delighted about not having a panic attack from that type of intense attention, she was puzzled. Something that psychologically messes with you cannot just be turned off for no reason. But then again, ever since of hearing about magic, she has felt much calmer. Then again, her brain has been busy trying to find a logical explanation about everything.

When she walked out of the store, her two parents took the bags off of her arms and guided her to a place that wouldn't block doors or areas to walk.

"From now on," Adam started, adjusting the bag that was now on his arm, "no running off. With a place with so many people, I'd rather not have you running around. Believe me, I want to run around and take everything, but not right now. Understand?" Renè sheepishly nodded, downcasting her eyes and messing with her shirt once again. "Good, now, where to?"

Renè kept her head down, ashamed, but softly she stuttered out, "B-books. A-and then other m-materials. I-I want t-to get m-my wand last. If th-that is o-okay of c-course."

Evan nodded, "Yeah, that's fine. I remember that I got my want last. Cedar wood with a phoenix feather core. But, books come first." He skipped forward, the bad on his arm shrinking as he stuck it into his pants pocket. The two followed behind him, Adam slightly struggling with the weight of the bag. (Who knew that a few robes could be so heavy?)

Diagon Alley was a huge place, though it may not seem that way at first glance, it is a maze. A gigantic, crowded maze.

It took the three of them three minutes to get to the the bookstore, _Flourish and Blotts_ , and another five to gather all of the books Renè would need.

Another ten minutes and they were out, though if Evan hadn't said she was allowed to get four books of her choice, it would have taken less time.

Renè had taken note earlier of what books caught her eye. There had been a history book- _Hogwarts: A History-_ , an advanced potions book, a folklore book on Wizarding Mythology, and-surprisingly-a book based on the Dark Arts.

All of the books held a strange pull to them, almost captivating, each cover moving, which-surprisingly-didn't bother her. Everything around her scared her, but it was so familiar as well. Each shop was beautiful, she should've been marvelling at every small thing. She shouldn't be accepting of this so easily. This _shouldn't_ be possible. And yet, she ignored it all.

The Apothecary was a short trip, the varying, vast amount of liquid, body parts, animal parts, and hearts didn't bother either Renè or Adam. The smells of the store didn't either, in fact, they're handling it as if they were pureblood wizards. Evan was waiting for one of them to start jumping around or show some type of emotion. Even _he_ hadn't been this calm when he was here for the first time, but both of them were just taking it in stride.

In actuality, neither of them had emotions at the moment. Yes, it was a wonderful experience, yes, it is beautiful. And, yes, the glows were bothering, but after roughly an hour of them, it became normal. And, it was all so normal. Either that, or they were finally in shock.

"The only thing left now is your wand," Evan said slowly, a smile blooming on his face. It slowly fell as he realized they weren't nearly excited as him. Worry blossomed instead of excitement. "Are you guys okay? Since Madam Milkin's, you two haven't acted well," he paused, trying to find the right word, "well, normal."

Renè and Adam shared a glance with one another. They both felt safe and familiar here, it looked like something out of a dream, maybe a nightmare with some of the content, but it wasn't. It was as if a major sense of deja vu hit the both of them, but it was impossible.

At first, yes, there was giddy, excitement, but the more they saw this world, the more it became a familiar puzzle. The bags on their arms had a familiar weight, they knew what each shop sold and exactly where to find everything. It _was_ unnerving, but they were calm.

Adam was the first to shrug, "It feels completely normal. As if I've seen it a thousand times."

Renè nodded silently, "I-I think we h-have seen it a-all b-before. S-somehow," she trailed off at the end, now fully aware of how she had been acting. The more important question right now is, why? Why had they been acting like they'd seen it all before? It would be literally impossible!

Evan accepted their words and continued on, though continuously kept an eye on their stoic faces. His red hair had gradually changed back to his brown, causing a smile to appear on Adam's face.

When they arrived at the wand shop-Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.-Renè paused at the shop door, the air of the place stuffy with both dust and magic. Evan coaxed the both of them into the dark shop, weaving through the shelves of wands until they reached a counter covered with boxes. An old man was sitting on a stool closely inspecting a wand, moon-like eyes magnified by the glass he was peering through.

Without looking up, he started speaking, "Evan Smith. Happy to see you again. Still taking care of your wand, yes? Cedar wood and a phoenix feather, twelve and three quarters inches, and rather brittle. Exploded my shop when it first touched your hand, a wonderful sight." Evan blushed in embarrassment, wanting to defend himself but not knowing how. Instead, Ollivander's attention turned to Renè, sending shivers down her spine.

"And you must be Katherine Opsal." He studied her for a moment, flicking his wand to send a tape measure to get dimensions. Not that they mattered, really. It was more personality based, but sizes still mattered. He hummed, as if the found something. His eyes gleamed in a child-like glee. "The choice of your wand depends on every tiny detail. From the length of your nose to your personality and flaws. So, I must know, which is your dominant hand?"

The question startled Renè from looking around the room. It took her a minute to process it, but when she did, she looked at both of her hands. "Uh, I-I apologize, S-sir, but I'm a-amb-bidextrous."

Ollivander simply hummed as he weaved through his shelves. He stacked a couple of wands on top of each other before heading back and handing one to Renè. "Acacia wood, eleven inches, dragon heartstring. One of my favourites. Go on and give it a go."

Renè looked over at Evan for encouragement until he smiled. She raised her arm and-

Was surprised to find the wand across the room.

Ollivander shook his head before giving her the one under that box, "Try this one. Redwood, unicorn hair, and rather sturdy."

She raised her arm again, but watched as two shelves knocked over before Ollivander stopped it with his own. She looked rather sheepish as she blushed, stuttering out a quiet apology, but handed the wand back.

Instead of handing her the next wand, he studied her again, seeming to notice something different. He looked over at Adam, nodded to himself, and went into a back room, coming out of the room with a completely black box.

Ollivander opened the box, revealing a wand engraved with runes and carved to have a skull at the base. It was a darker wood that just spiraled. Seeing it made a warmth spread through Renè. Instead of him handing it to her, she hesitantly reached out and gingerly picked it up.

The warmth magnified, orange magic spurting from the wand and her hand seeming to connect the two, and a burst of black and orange erupted from the wand. The burst knocked both Adam and Evan off their feet. The carved skull's eyes glowed bright orange before they fell still, welcoming the young girl.

Ollivander, despite having his shop ruined ever _more,_ smiled in glee. "This wand is one of my favourites, so special. It has also been sitting in this shop since before we moved here. From what I have been able to decipher, it is alder wood mixed with phoenix ash, a phoenix feather core, twelve and three quarters inches long, and rather bendy. The only wand I've seen that was made with dead wood. Rather peculiar _you_ would have received this wand though." Ollivander trailed off and refused to say much more on the topic.

The trio paid for the wand-sixteen Galleons for such an old wand-and left, everybody's mind on the last sentence Ollivander said.

(5823)

 **Fact Fact #3:**

 **I have more planned for book four than right now.**


	4. Chapter 4

September first came rather fast. It had felt like a week when it had really been one in a half months before. The summer days had melted into an almost cool autumn, and the heat had just barely died down.

René was already packed by six in the morning, having had help from Evan and Adam last night. Basic books were stuffed into a charmed book bag by Evan-it was made by Esther's mother for her first year and passed down to Evan. Now it was René's. Everything else was stuffed neatly into Evan's old trunk which was his father's before him. Packing was bittersweet for the ex-Hogwarts student as he reminisced throughout the years. It made René excited and nervous at the same time.

René had gotten dressed at six-thirty, having had an omelette courtesy of Evan-Adam had stayed up late and was trying to sleep for an hour more. She slowly dragged the heavy trunk out of her room, book bag slung over her shoulder. Though they didn't live far from King's Cross Station, they were ready to leave by nine, and left at nine-thirty.

René was nervous. That was all. Anybody could see that with the way she was messing with the cord of her headphones and staring a hole into the seat of the car. She was half listening to Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here as they sat in the car, idle conversation between the three. Evan was driving and Adam was going on a roll of how his only daughter should _not_ be growing up at the age of eleven. Evan argued back that it was only until Christmas break, possibly summer, and it quickly turned into a sad air around everybody.

It was simply ten-thirty when they arrived, grabbed a cart and headed into the station. Evan had refused to tell the two where this "Hogwarts Express" was and just smirked, walking backwards as he went.

Neither noticed they were close to the wall dividing between platforms _Nine_ and _Ten_ until Evan abruptly turned around and ran straight at it-despite the protests of the father-daughter duo-and disappeared through the wall. It shimmered for a moment after he had gone through, before returning back to normal.

Her father's hands moving brought René's attention to him. "Do we. Do we follow him? What if it's just a prank and it's just slight of hand magic? Just illusions?" His breath caught in his throat, and for once since they found out about magic, he doubted it. The orange glows had finally started staying there completely, and _that_ had taken quite a while to get used to. But all of that he could just be auras and they could be psychic.

René thought about the question, knowing the duo was getting weird looks others-she started blushing and fidgeting at those-and slowly signed back. "Pa likes small, quick pranks. This has been going on for months, he wouldn't have enough patience to keep it going."

Adam tilted his head at the wall, peering at it and trying to decide. Should we go through together?" he asked his daughter, signs slower than usual.

"Yeah, that would be best," René's hands trailed off slowly, gripping onto the hand of the cart. Running into a wall did not seem like the smartest idea at all, even if the comfort of knowing about magic did soften the idea.

Adam nodded, gulped, and counted down from three.

"Three," his hands shook as he held it up, wondering it all was a dream. He watched as his daughter's hands tightened on the handle and her breathing quicken.

"Two," his right hand leapt out to hold onto the cart as well, feeling the fear build up in his throat. What were they going to do? Run into a brick wall? Yes.

"One." The sign was clear and definite and for a moment, neither of their legs worked. Until they were both pushed from behind and they couldn't stop running. Bracing for the impact, they ended up slowing down and stopping when they made it through. Eyes blinking, they were awestruck by the sight. Smoke billowed around the few amount of people on the platform, but nobody coughed or gagged. Which, now that they looked closer, they saw it was pure, almost close to a cloud like structure. The smoke itself came from a red-almost blood-red-steam engine with black words written on the side underlines in a swirly gold- _Hogwarts Express_.

Evan entered behind them with a soft smile. "Beautiful, is it not?" he asked the two newest to the magical world. Even to him it still took his breath away. He casually slung an arm around Adam's shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I knew you could run through the wall."

Adam stared at Evan for a moment before giving a half grin. "You pushed us. Thank you for that. We probably wouldn't have moved if you hadn't."

"I-is this r-really all m-magic?" René quickly asked, twirling once to absorb the entirety of the scenery. Most people had been entering through the station, including a bushy-haired girl that looked as excited as René felt.

"Yeah, it is," Evan looked at his watch-a present from Adam two years ago-and turned to give René a hug. It was a mother-bear hug that makes you feel safe and comfortable and much less nervous. René released a breath as she leant into the hug of her pa. "I'll send an owl on the weekend and you will _not_ spare us the details." She nodded in agreement, tears brimming as fear gripped her chest.

She hadn't been away from any members of her family for more than three hours, and that even freaked her out a bit. Now they were asking for nine months?

Evan released her from the hug and gave a teary smile. He wiped her eyes and passed her off to Adam the two clinging to each other. It was going to get hard, especially after Sophia eleven years ago, that topic still hurt at times, but they would communicate.

"I-I p-p-promise to write," she mumbled into his jacket. And for once, he couldn't tell if the stutters were caused by nature or by her own sobs. Neither would admit that they were worried about the other being away for so long, but the way the family clutched to one another was more than words could say.

They both made themselves presentable as a group of gingers and one black haired boy passed them.

"You should probably get on the Express now," Evan said as they pulled apart. "I can help if you want." At is request, René shook her head and timidly pulled her wand out of her right boot and pointed it at the trunk.

"Wingardium Leviosa," she only mouthed the words, but it still had enough power and focus to work properly. The trunk shakily rose into the air before it stabilized. She looked sheepish at her fathers' impressive, shocked look. "Y-you didn't think I w-was do-doing nothing for a month? I-I was reading and p-practicing."

Without waiting for a response, she walked towards the express, the pit of fear growing larger, and tears brimmed her eyes again. She was determined not to succumb to this though, and spent a moment to put on her headphones and start the next song. It helped as it blocked out the noise, and she started searching for an empty compartment. Sadly, there wasn't an empty one, but there was one mainly empty with the frizzy-haired girl and a short, pudgy boy.

The girl had darker skin, almost olive but not the right shade, and bushy, curly brown hair that went to the middle of her back. Brown eyes shone and sparkled as she talked animatedly with the boy, buck teeth showing every now and then.

The boy was pale with a bit of sun colour and had dirty blonde hair cut evenly and carefully. He still had baby fat on his cheeks and a button nose that complimented his hazel eyes. He didn't seem to smile all too much, but his eyes displayed all of his emotions.

René knocked on the door first, before stepping in with a grimace-like smile, trunk floating behind her. When the two looked up from their conversation, René waved slightly. "M-mind i-if I s-s-sit with y-you g-guys?" It was voiced softly as she looked between the two, waiting for one of them to answer.

"If it's okay with Neville, it's okay with me," at the boy's-Neville's-nod, René gently set the trunk down and sat across from the two, looking down at her hands. Sensing the awkward tension, the curly-haired girl started speaking again, "Well, I'm Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom. What's your name?"

"Katherine. B-but please, c-call me René," she replied, pushing her hair behind her ear. The music had started fritzing as soon as she stepped on the train, so she removed her headphones and looked up.

Hermione had started smiling, brown eyes lighting up. "Nice to meet you René. So, I see you have already started doing spells, haven't you? That was the levitation charm in the second chapter of our charms textbooks. I'm surprised someone has looked at them, I thought I was the only one. I haven't been able to do it though." René nodded and gave a more proper smile. Having a one-sided conversation was very awkward, but at least she didn't have to fill a silence.

"I looked at my books!" Neville protested, crossing his arms, letting a toad slip out of his hands and jump out of the door. "Trevor!"

Hermione jumped out of the seat and headed toward the door, "I'll find him, you two stay here in case he comes back!" She didn't leave any room to argue as she sped out the door.

The room quickly became awkward as Neville and René looked at each other. Each gave a small smile that looked like a grimace, not completely comfortable with socializing. They spent a few minutes like that until René reached into her book bag and grabbed the black book.

She delved into the book, despite having read it multiple times. She had memorized the basics of the book, and was browsing for anything to do with Hogwarts. This is what she did when she got bored, re-read the book and practicing the German. Ever since she found out that magic was real, the random words in Latin made sense, although there were still a couple of-what she believed-were German spells that she hadn't found in any of the books from Flourish and Blotts. They had a description underneath all of them, describing in detail of what happens when the spell is cast. It also has some tips of how to cast magic.

The book, however, had nothing to do with Hogwarts and-in some cases-spoke rather lowly of the magical school. The author of the journal didn't enjoy the thought of any magical schools and spoke of their lives isolated from the rest of the world. It spoke of some foreboding prophecy that only the people who could read the book would understand, and how everything would come clear soon-although René ignored that part. The author was probably insane from being isolated, although they had some magnificent tips.

René didn't look back up until Hermione came back red-faced and slightly miffed, and even then it was just a small glance. She was in the middle of an entry and really was not in a good place to stop reading.

At least she didn't until a hand fell on her shoulder that made her jump and shy away. René looked up and saw Hermione looking down at her. She was already dressed in the school uniform with a robe and witch hat. "You should go and get in your uniform. We're almost there."

René blinked in confusion, "H-how long h-have we been o-on the train?" It hadn't even felt like an hour and she read that the trip took roughly five hours. The carriage ride was supposed to take an hour and fifteen minutes.

"Four hours and sixteen minutes," she replied, pointing at a clock that hung on the compartment's wall. "Do you know where the changing rooms are?" At René's shake of her head, Hermione grinned. "That's okay. I'll show you."

René smiled nervously, wondering if she had already made a new friend-her first friend!-and put the book away-after marking the page. Hermione gaped as it mysteriously disappeared in the bag with nothing in it and quickly grew curious as to what charm it was. All René did was shrug as she went through her trunk and pulled out the school uniform.

At that moment, Neville stepped in with his previous clothing in his hands and looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Hey, Neville. I'm sorry. I couldn't find Trevor. I'm sure he will appear though! I'm going to escort Kat-René to the changing rooms." She glanced at the aforementioned girl sheepishly. "Sorry, I forgot."

"It's o-okay. Just, l-lead the way."

The changing rooms were five cars away and had a waiting line about ten students long. It was awkward to just stand there, but Hermione quickly filled the silence.

"Guess who I met?" her voice was laced in excitement, and it was hardly restrained. René didn't say anything, just sent an inquisitive look her way. Hermione huffed in a playful annoyance, but still answered. " _The_ Harry Potter," her voice was more restrained than before and her eyes were sparkling.

Recognition clicked as soon as the name was said. The boy who lived. The one to defeat Voldemort when he was just a year old. René smiled grimly, "S-so?"

Hermione's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. "So? Do you not know who he is? He defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when he was a toddler. He saved the Muggle and the wizarding world alike!"

René cut in without missing a beat, "Exactly. When he was a year old, meaning he won't remember anything. Plus it was at the expense of his parents." Her voice grew cold and silky, smoothing out any stutters that could have been there. "Would you sacrifice your parents just to save the world? Just because a psycho decided he wanted to kill you and your family? 'Cause honestly, I don't believe you would."

Hermione stuttered in surprise before sheepishly looking at her feet. There was tension as she powdered the question, as if René was going to judge her choice no matter what she were to say. It took a full minute until she shook her head. "I don't think I could. It would be for the greater good, but, to let go of my parents so early on." She huffed a sigh and shook her head, trying to get rid of the thought. Her face slowly turned into a horrified guilt. "I just fawned over his farm. I just," she buried her face into her hands.

René awkwardly shifted, watching as the orange glow around her friend flare up before dying down, thinner than before and closer to the chest. She shifted the robe off to one arm before rubbing Hermione's back comfortingly. It was awkward at first, watching the brunette shake her head in embarrassment, but it slowly died down.

It took two minutes before her head was unburied from her hands and the hand was removed from her back. "Thank you," Hermione said, taking a step forward as the line moved. There were only four people in front of them and it left time to ponder. Especially as to how this girl next to her-whom Hermione knew was a first year-was so intelligent. She herself had tried the levitation charm and it hadn't worked. The first time she had complete control over her own magic was just an hour before when she fixed Harry Potter's glasses, yet René could already attempt and produce the charm.

"Hey, René, how did you know not to… flaunt Harry's fame?" Hermione eventually asked. It wasn't the question at the front of her mind, but it was still itching and prominent.l

René hummed softly in response to the question. "E-everybody knows th-the Boy-Who-Lived. They don't-t know H-Harry Potter. Th-they're two different people." With that statement, she walked into the changing room, leaving Hermione to ponder again.

René was correct. Nobody had properly seen Harry Potter in ten years. Nobody knew how he had grown up or where. Everybody tried to flare up the fame he got when he defeated H-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Though, why did René even know about fame?

It was a couple of minutes until René came back out, robe still slung over her arm, but otherwise dressed in the standard school uniform. The only thing not right with the outfit was the tie that hung loosely around her neck

"Hey, H-Hermione? C-can y-you help me w-with my t-tie?" René asked, her face becoming red at the question. It was apparent that she didn't know how to tie a tie, and Hermione wouldn't have known if her dad didn't show her before school started. It was a strange concept because it wasn't a simple knot like shoes.

René shifted and waited as Hermione seemed to come out of her thoughts. "What? Oh, yeah, of course."

She watched as Hermione tied the tie, inspecting every step until it was resting nicely around her own neck. She slipped her robe on, the bottom of it wrapping around her ankles loosely, and stuffed both her wand and her discman in the pocket. The pointed hat that wasn't as nearly pointy and droopy as Halloween decorations tipped to the side as she adjusted it. She had had the smart idea to to attach it to a headband so it wouldn't fall whenever she had to pick something up or when she was writing.

"W-why do w-wizards have su-such w-weird ways of d-dressing?" she complained, trying to fit the sleeves better. They stopped right before her wrists and were too droopy-though not excessively so-to do anything useful. To her, robes seemed highly impracticable when they came to magic-too loose and distracting.

Hermione simply hummed as she thought about the question. She had noticed the weird style of clothing as well, though she had decided to not comment on it. "It probably has something to do with when the actual school was established. It could have been for secrecy and mystery. Honestly, I don't have a clue," she concluded with a shrug as they entered the compartment with Neville.

His eyes lit up slightly when he saw the both of them, almost glad that people were around again. "Hey guys."

"Hey Neville," Hermione responded as René gave a small nod. The silence became awkward as each waited for another person to fill it.

It was finally Neville who broke the tension. "What house do you think you'll be sorted into?"

Hermione was the first to grin at the question. "I've asked around and I greatly prefer Gryffindor. I heard that Dumbledore himself was in it and it just seems amazing. Although, Ravenclaw or Slytherin would be fine."

René nodded to Hermione's words as she herself pondered what she knew about the houses. "S-Slytherin sounds fun. Although, I-I believe R-Ravenclaw would be best. I-I know f-for sure I-I'm not making it into Gr-Gryffindor."

"Best you two _don't_ get into Slytherin. They're all blood prejudiced and would never accept a muggleborn into their house. Though you can always lie if that happens." Neville nodded once at his logic. "I bet I'll get into Hufflepuff, although Gran argues I have the Gryffindor gene somewhere in me."

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately," a voice boomed from overhead, causing each person's eyes to dart upward. It must have been a voice changing charm as it came out monotone as well.

René furrowed her brows, filing some information for later. "I'm g-guessing the houses d-don't get along." It wasn't a question and the words were familiar, although Neville nodded anyway. "Then let's make a pact," her determination let her speak clearly as her silver eyes glinted. "No matter what house we get into or whatever happens, we will always be neutral-if not friends-with one another. _Never_ will we turn on one another. If one of us doesn't have a partner in class, they can join that group, okay?" She said it with such finality that the other two occupants nodded without argument. They each knew that they would not be the most popular of people, but they would all be mutual. Always someone to count on.

"That sounds like a fantastic plan," Hermione eventually said, giving off a bright smile with it.

"At least then we each have two friends. Ooh, Gran's going to be so proud thug I now have _two!_ " Neville chimed in, a shyer smile edging at his lips.

At that point, the train stopped and many older students started getting off, which prompted the first years to do the same.

They were met with a dark platform that split into two. One going to numerous carriages led by some half-dead horse animal, and the other led down where a large man was.

By large I mean as twice as tall as Hermione-who was half a head taller than René-and two and a half times as wide. He had needy black eyes that glinted with glee and a vast amount of happiness, and hair so wild that it became a mane. His beard flew around in the wind making it appear as part of the mane.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" his voice boomed as the trio walked cautiously over to the giant of a man.

"C'mon, follow me-any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

The path that led downwards was slick, making each first year slip and stumble down the steep and narrow path. It was dark, so every student just kept their eyes forward and their mouths shut, although Neville sniffed once or twice.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the giant yelled over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

Every student but René "ooh"ed as the path opened to reveal a large, black lake. On a hilly mountain perched a large, stone castle, windows sparkling and towers shooting up into the sky. The castle _had_ to have at least five floors and had to cover at least three square kilometers.

No, instead René sat in wonder, but the edges of uncomfortable familiarity began again. It was all so surreal and beautiful and _real_. This late realization had her chest seize with panic as her hand trailed to the cord of her discman and trilled her fingers around it. The comfort of a familiar item helped ease the panic some, and she ignored Hermione's worried look.

"No more'n four to a boat!" The teacher-like giant pointed to a bundle of small boats gathered around the edge of the lake. René shakily climbed into a boat with a near-white headed boy and two large lads who looked almost like bodyguards. Hermione and Neville climbed into a boat with Harry Potter and the redhead she saw in King's Cross. "Everyone in? Right then-FORWARD!"

With a start, the boats moved all at once, gliding across the water with little effort. Everybody was silent, staring at the looming castle that held the secrets of the next seven years. It was larger than it was just a little ways away. The only thought going through Reno's head was how she was going to stop herself from getting lost.

"Heads down!" The first of the boats had just reached a cliff where a curtain of ivy lay; they all obediently lowered their heads and carried through a long, dark tunnel. It was carved from stone and held runes every now and then, probably to stop it from corroding and falling onto of unsuspecting first years. The boats finally reached an underground harbour where everybody clambered out onto gravel.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" the giant picked up a toad as Neville ran forward.

"Trevor!"

It was then when they had to walk up, following the giant's lamp in the dark. They ended up coming onto grass and a flight of stone steps. Large oak doors stood atop, looming above them all.

"Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?" And with that, he raised a giant fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

(4220)

 **Fun Fact #4:**

 **I have actually not read past book five. I am getting around to it, I just got bored. By the time this book reaches that part of the timeline, I will have read the rest.**

 **By the way, this author enjoys all the reviews.**


	5. Chapter 5

The students walked with bated breath for the door to open. It seemed to stretch for hours, although it was almost instantaneous.

The witch who opened the door had black hair pulled into an updo that was covered by her witch hat. Soft green robes brought out stern, vibrant green eyes scanned the sea of students, lingering on Harry expectantly until her eyes caught the giant's.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Hagrid nodded and left as Professor McGonagall pulled the door wide open. The Entrance Hall was massive, easily able to fit a house in it. Torches lit up the stone walls, adding a creepy effect but also a nice and warm aesthetic. The ceiling was too high to make out, although the darkness of the room made sure to tell you it was there. Marble stairs led to the upper floors, though René could not fathom how high those floors actually were.

In the first look, René already loved the place.

The professor led the students down the hall, past a doorway to the right with hundreds of voices behind it, and to a door on the left. René was hardly paying attention as they walked through the hall.

The students piled into the room, René found Hermione and clung awkwardly to her robe, face burning as she tripped and panic seizing her chest. What if she was suddenly deemed non magical and it was all a fluke? What if she had already drained whatever reservoir of magic she had? The only thing that stopped that train of thought was the comforting orange glow coming off of her peers.

Hermione sent her a worried look that she ignored and just listened to the words that Professor McGonagall was saying.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you House points, while any rule-breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit it whichever House becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

The professor's eyes trailed over to Neville's cloak, the redhead's cheek, and René as she clutched onto Hermione's sleeve. She seemed to be referring to the three of them, though her gaze wasn't patronizing, just motherly and slightly worried.

"I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," she stated,before promptly leaving the room.

It was quiet for a moment until someone started speaking. That in itself set off a chain reaction as Hermione went off to help Neville fix his cloak. René followed, though only because she was still clutching Hermione's robe as if it was a lifeline.

Actually, Hermione realized, René had gone rather pale and sickly, but she appeared to still be standing. She looked terrified.

"Hey, René. Are you okay?" Hermione finally asked, getting Neville to look presentable. "You don't look so well."

"Th-the Sorting C-C-Ceremony i-is in front o-of the wh-whole s-school? W-Why?" René whispered. Her eyes darted around, scanning the students and for anything out of the ordinary. These teachers were just cruel to make everybody watch the ceremony. Had no students had anxiety before? Was this not torture for some students? Who in the actual living Hell thought this would be a good idea for eleven-year-olds' psyche?

Her thoughts were drawn away from her panic as she caught sight of a transparent person floating through the walls. It was absurd, deaths in a school. They didn't seem like the ones René had seen before-those ones had colour! Twenty of them floated through the wall, and multiple people screamed.

The next thing that caught her attention was that students _screamed._ Others could see them, meaning she wasn't alone. Was it a normal wizarding ability? And the thing she noticed after that was that they still held a small aura, close together in the center of their beings.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" a pudgy monk seemed to be saying, although was interrupted by a ghost with ruffles and in tights.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us a bad name and you know, he's not a real ghost-I say, what are you all doing here?"

It was a tense silence before René finally released Hermione's sleeve and stood a bit straighter. She always was more confident with ghosts. Always more talkative with them. They just all had a more comforting feel around them than humans.

"We're n-new st-students," she clearly spoke, giving a small smile to the ghosts Some of the students gasped-either at the audacity that she had to speak with ghosts or the very audible stutter. Either way, the ghosts were taken aback-no first years had attempted to speak with them in this room before.

Eventually, the Fat Friar found his voice, "New students! About to be sorted, I suppose!"

Some students nodded mutely,shifting in place and terrified by the ghosts.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know." What a surprise, the Friar in Hufflepuff, home of kindness and loyalty.

The doors opened, Professor McGonagall entering and eyeing the ghosts. "Move along now. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Slowly, the ghosts dispersed out of the room, each almost reluctant to leave and each sparing a glance who spoke up. She seemed relaxed in the ghost's presence-something that never happened with first years-and gave an actual smile.

Professor McGonagall noticed the ghosts' looks and narrowed her eyes. Never in her time of teaching had she seen the ghosts pay attention to a single student. She put it to the side. At the moment, she had a job.

"Now, form a line and follow me."

René felt awkward as she felt the professor's eyes on her. Maybe she shouldn't have spoken to the ghosts, but it was nature. She's done that many times before, just not in front of anybody else.

She lined up behind Neville with Hermione behind her as they walked out of the first year holding chamber and through a pair of doors and into the Great Hall.

Reading about it in _Hogwarts, A History_ did no justice for the actual were no words to describe the amount of magic in the room and how much was still being released. It was a comforting feeling, especially with an enchantment on the ceiling of the night sky.

There were five, impressively long tables-four for the four Houses and one for the professors. Golden utensils sat in place on the tables and white and red candles magically floated around the room and was the only lighting. Professor McGonagall led them between two tables, one House that donned blue, the other that donned yellow, while the ghosts from before went to their own, previous Houses.

Though none of that concerned René as she caught sight of the teachers. Each one of them with the regular orange glow that surrounded a person, each one ranging in width and intensity. Two professors, however, held an inky, invasive black that spread like a virus on the glow. The teacher that she met a month and a half before on her birthday-Professor Snape-and a nervous looking professor sitting next to him in a turban.

The turban-headed professor was speaking meekly to Professor Snape, head turning as the black increased. Professor Snape, however, held the ink on his left forearm-though it seemed much duller. Whatever it was, it was unnerving and leaking dark magic.

Movement caught René's eyes, causing her to file the needed information away for later. Professor McGonagall had placed a wizarding hat on a stool. That was a weird action in itself if the old, frayed, and stitched hat had anything to do with the Sorting. Instead though, everybody sat as if it was a normal thing and waited. There was a couple of seconds of pure silence that ended when a rip in the hat opened and-dare I say-started to sing.

 _"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

 _But don't judge on what you see,_

 _I'll eat myself if you can find_

 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers blac,_

 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_

 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_

 _The Sorting Hat can't see._

 _So try me on and I will tell you_

 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_

 _Where dwell the brave of heart,_

 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_

 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

 _Where they are just and loyal._

 _Those patient Hufflepuff are true_

 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

 _If you've a ready mind,_

 _Where those of wit and learning,_

 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_

 _You'll make your real friends,_

 _Those cunning folk use any means_

 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

 _And don't get in a flap!_

 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!"_

The students sitting at the tables clapped heartedly as the hat bowed to each table. The first years, however, were quiet and rather confused, although there were whispers going around.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said, unravelling the scroll for the first and final time of that year. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A blonde, pigtailed girl stepped out of line, taking off her own witch hat as she did so, and sat on the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, covering her eyes. A moment's pause-

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The table to the right of them cheered as Hannah walked to them, face red.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table to their left cheered this time, welcoming Terry gleefully.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!'

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table furthest to the left and students clad in red cheered happily. It was the first new Gryffindor of the year.

René felt a seize of panic hit her again. As each name was called there was one less person in line and closer to her name. It was going to be the most terrifying thing in her life!

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

More names were called, although René couldn't focus. Esther had told her she had very strong walls around her mind, could the hat access them or will she have to make a crack to let it in? What if she couldn't and then couldn't be sorted?

"Granger, Hermione!"

The hat stayed quiet atop her head for minutes, causing the panic to shift from her to her friend. What if she couldn't be sorted? René knew it was illogical, but anything could happen. Finally, the hat yelled-

"GRYFFINDOR!" And René let a breath out.

She zones out again until, "Longbottom, Neville!" was called, and Renè watched his sorting. It took as long, if not longer, for Neville to be sorted.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Renè watched and laughed softly as her friend ran to the table with the hat on.

The blonde boy, "Malfoy, Draco!" she sat with on the boat was quickly sorted into Slytherin.

There was hardly anybody left and the panic was doubling.

"Opsal, Katherine!" was finally called and René could hardly register stepping forward. She could hardly register her hand going to the cord in her pocket and nervously fidgeting with it. Could hardly register suddenly not being able to see as the hat was placed over her head. She did notice, however, when the hat began speaking in her mind.

"Hmm. This could prove as a problem. I've never met a first year skilled enough in Occlumency to keep me out. I must ask, would you be kind enough to take it down, just for a minute. Although, I could make the decision now, but it could be highly inaccurate."

René winced and nodded, concentrating on making a small crack, just enough to get a hat in. Just a small tendril, and she hoped it would work.

"That's better. You have a strong mind and you retain the information. Ah, a natural born scientist. You would do well in Ravenclaw, but…" the hat paused for a moment and René could feel the extra presence in her mind, confined now in the walls but able to escape whenever.

"If it wasn't for the blood, you would do excellent in Slytherin. All that pent up ambition. And there you would find confidence in yourself, exactly what you need. But-

"RAV-" the hat cut off into silence, and-if it had eyes-would of blinked in the new found information.

"You have the Grimoire. That hasn't happened in generations." René could feel more prodding from the hat as it searched for something, almost in desperation. From outside, she could her low mumbles of confusion and someone yell, "Hat Stall!"

The hat spoke up again, almost remorsefully and in regret, "I wish you luck, young descendant."

"SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was removed as the Slytherin tabled clapped, although some people did so much more reluctantly. The walk seemed to take forever as she reached her peers. She sat at the other end of the table, away from the teachers, and where nobody had sat. None of the tables were filled to their capacity and it seemed as no one had bothered to shorten it either. She didn't notice the looks Hermione and Neville sent from their table and the newly dubbed trio was separated. It didn't matter though, as the familiar name of, "Potter, Harry!" spread throughout the room and brought another reason to gossip.

"Potter?"

" _The_ Harry Potter?"

"Is it really?"

The Malfoy scoffed as he heard those words, though seemed to eagerly await the sorting. René shook her head at the absurdities of the Potter talk going around.

Moments later, the hat yelled-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco Malfoy flinched at hearing that name and started mumbling under his breath. He seemed irritated that Harry didn't get sorted into Slytherin and René chalked it up to pureblood politics.

The last handful of people got sorted, gaining another Slytherin named Blaise Zabini.

Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of the school-it was in _Hogwarts, A History_ -stood up in front of the school, arms spread wide and beaming. His eyes sparkled, although they were hard and calculating as they scoured the students.

"Welcome," he started, smile somehow growing larger. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin out banquet, I would like to say a few words and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down as the students clapped and cheered at the statement. René, however furrowed her brows in confusion at the words. They were complete nonsense and yet to him, he seemed to have a meaning behind them.

Food had appeared on the table in an instant and René briefly wondered why world hunger hadn't ended yet. And then she remembered that they were witched and hidden from the regular world. That didn't stop her from feeling bad as she filled her plate and nibbled off of the exquisite food.

The Opsal's had lived pretty much on takeout and-rarely-Esther's or Evan's cooking. Adam was terrible at cooking and had burnt water before-don't ask him how, he got frustrated-and promptly gave up on food. So when Esther didn't feel like giving to charity and Evan was too tired to cook, takeout was the only option.

René listened to the various conversations happening between either the Hufflepuffs or her fellow first year Slytherins.

"My father will be proud. Not that he would be surprised, but he will be proud that I made it into Slytherin," Malfoy stated, puffing his chest out in faux manliness. It caused a laugh to go around the table before everybody realized he was serious. Malfoy smirked in triumph, almost as if he expected this result, before going pale at seeing who was beside him.

One of the ghosts with sunken, blank eyes and a gaunt face sat there. He seemed to be covered in a silvery substance which René quickly realized was the ghostly equivalent to blood.

She scooted over quite a bit to get a better look at the guy-err, ghost. He seemed almost depressed about something, although he just sat there. Her scooting had her semi-pressed against the black haired guy that was sorted last-Blaise Zabini. He was surprised at first, but just shrugged and went back to eating.

René smiled at the ghost politely and tilted her head to the side. "Hello, y-you seem i-interesting." It wasn't the most social thing to say, but the ghost seemed taken aback. Her fellow first year Slytherins looked horrified at her courage to talk to _the_ Bloody Baron. They had all heard about the ominous Slytherin ghost from their parents and assumed this almost-Ravenclaw had as well. Instead, she is attempting a conversation with him.

The Bloody Baron stared down at the girl, used to the students cowering away. To his surprise though, the girl stared at him curiously, food and other students quickly forgotten.

René nodded once as if she had gotten a response. "O-okay then. M-may I kn-know your name?"

The Baron didn't answer again, although the blond answered for him. "Did your parents not tell you about him? Merlin, who _raised_ you?"

René turned her attention to the young Malfoy as the eyes of the Slytherin table were now on her.

"I-I was r-raised by my f-fathers. I-I'm sorry if th-that bothers y-you," she stated evenly, pale silver eyes unblinking. If it bothered them, they didn't have to speak to her.

"Yeah? And whatever happened to your mother? Did she run away because of your stutter?"

René grimaced, the topic of her mother never being brought up too much."I-if you must kn-know, m-my m-mother died in ch-childbirth.I-I'm sure th-that happens to pu-purebloods as well."

Zabini next to her blanched as pieces formed together. If her father didn't know so much- _every_ wizarding parent mentioned the Baron-and her mother died in childbirth-there's been a magical way to stop that for ages-then-

"You're a muggleborn?"

The chatter of the Slytherin table died as Zabini's question was repeated down the table. There had never been a muggleborn in Slytherin. It was unheard of since Salazar Slytherin himself.

René went wide-eyed at the question, fear seizing. She had a chance to accept or deny the truth and everybody knew that. Her hands fidgeted with her robe's sleeve and nodded slowly.

Gasps echoed around the table as did whispers-even the Bloody Baron looked surprised. A muggleborn-mudblood in some older students-in Slytherin? It was impossible!

"You're a mudblood?" Malfoy hissed from across the table. Some Hufflepuffs overheard what he said and turned to the conversation. Others gasped at the audacity he had of even using that word-the teachers were now paying special attention to the Slytherin table and the small group huddle. They obviously had noticed the sudden silence and whispers.

René cringed at the word. It was mentioned in the Grimoire and the book based solely on the Dark Arts, one with warnings against the word and the other being casually tossed around. It was a slur for muggleborns and it stung.

"I-if that's wh-what you w-want to call it, th-then sure. Though I-I would p-prefer you not u-use such a d-der-derogatory term." René bit her lip as the alarm bells rang in her head. This was going to end badly.

The older Slytherins gawked at the youngers, although many hid their surprise well. They were masters of lying and schooling their emotions, although third years and down were openly expressing their surprise.

René nodded once at the Bloody Baron, determined to talk to him later, and scooted back to her seat. Zabini exhaled quickly, glad that he had his personal space back.

Malfoy was silent before scoffing and going back to his food-which had turned to dessert. "I can't believe there's a mudblood in Slytherin."

The desserts disappeared after another ten minutes and Dumbledore stood up from the large, golden chair. His blue eyes twinkled from behind his glasses and his long, white beard was tucked into his belt. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem-just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a painful death."

René furrowed her brows as she leaned forward. That was certainly interesting. Whenever an adult instructed to _not_ do something, children typically wanted to do it. So then why…

She watched the Headmaster as his eyes darted over the room, sticking on the Gryffindor table longer than usual. His eyes stopped twinkling for a nanosecond before they gained the sparkle again.

He was hiding something important.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

The Headmaster flicked his wand, smile growing as he saw the golden ribbon fly out over the tables and elongate.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!"

Everybody began to sing besides the Slytherins. There were some who were attempting to follow a tune, but most had stared blankly at the words. They're nobility and were told early on that they had to _act_ as pure and noble.

René desperately wanted to sing though didn't want to stand out. There also wasn't a definite tune that she could follow either as they all blurred and blended. Instead she just stared at the glowing words with fists clenched at her side. How was she supposed to explain her Sorting into Slytherin, a House rumoured to only hold dark wizards.

'But dark didn't necessarily mean evil,' a voice sang from the back of her mind. 'It just meant that you had more tricks up your sleeves. Anyways, Pa will never be mad at you.'

A smile rested upon her face as the singing ended, a pair of redheads from Gryffindor finishing last. They harmonized well, although purposely made their voices crack and sound bad. The only thing that kept René's eye though, was the brighter orange glow around the twin on the left. In fact, it was reaching further out than the twin on the right, whose glow was tighter and more around the core of his body. René furrowed her brow and stared up back at the Headmaster as he began to speak.

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The student body seemed to stand up as one of the older students lead them away. They seemed to be lecturing the first years.

"Being in the House of Salazar Slytherin is a great privilege. We've been as pure as we can since then and will not tolerate any mishaps or nonsense. We have to keep up appearances as well. If you find yourself in trouble with another House's Prefect or a Professor, you will find your own way out of it. We have won the House Cup for six years and we _will_ win it again. Do _not_ mess it up for everybody else by doing some stupid and random action that will cost us points. And _don't_ get sent to Professor Snape by another professor or Prefect. He does not appreciate being… bothered."

The girl stopped in front of a painting after leading them down multiple flights of stairs and into the dungeons. The temperature dropped as they continued to walk and head underground. The Prefect stopped in front of a painting of a snake.

"This will be your landmark of where our Common Room is. To the right is the entrance and it will stay there. The password is pureblood and it will change on the first of every month. The new passwords will be posted on the community wall as long with everything Professor Snape will have to announce." She turned directly to the wall, brown hair falling to her waist, "Pureblood."

The wall melted away into a sizeable entry way, just as it did at Diagon Alley, and the first years excitedly piled into the room.

It was dark, the only light being from multiple fireplaces and lanterns that were scattered around the room. Green, plush armchairs were scattered around the vast room, though most were centered around the left back corner where a small library was. The few windows there were were open to water and some first years walked up to watch creatures swim past.

The air was musky from being underground, and René dreaded the frigid cold coming in a few months, but let herself be lead to the dorm room she would be sharing with four other girls. They all seemed to know each other and all began quickly chattering, though there were many dirty looks and glances sent her way.

Her trunk had been placed in the corner of the room of eight beds; the other girls moved their trunks closer to the door. René quickly contemplated of doing the same, though retracted that thought almost immediately. If they wanted to ostracize her, then let them. She at least had Hermione and Neville, even if they _were_ in different Houses.

René fell into a fitful sleep before she even had time to change. Dreams of friends and family turning their back because she was in the "dark" and "evil" House.

Hermione knew René to be correct of her interactions with Harry Potter, even if she had turned out to be Slytherin, she still wanted to be friends. In that moment, she knew the pact was in most effect, even as a light pull of her magic brought her closer to Neville. Whatever it was René had done with her magic, it had connected the three of them, even if by accident.

But now, as they reached the Gryffindor Common Room, she waited around for Harry Potter. It wasn't long before she saw him walking up the stairs to the boy's rooms.

"Harry!" she yelled softly, face growing red at gaining attention. Harry turned, albeit in confusion and hesitantly, and then in annoyance. Both him and Ron walked down the few steps.

"Yes?" His voice was cautious, as if he was afraid of asking a simple question. Or of her answer.

"I would like to apologize for my words and actions on the Hogwarts Express. I'm hoping we can start over," she said, her voice faltering as she saw a look of surprise enter his face.

Harry nodded with a smile as Ron gawked silently at them. "Yeah, sure. I would like that." He held out his hand in a way of greeting, his smile fading into something goofy. "I'm Harry Potter. What's your name?"

Hermione grinned, "I'm Hermione Granger. I feel like this will be a most wonderful friendship, Harry."

And in sync, both orange glows flashed and flared for a moment before sinking closer to their cores.

(4830)

 **Fun Fact #5: I officially own the first book! Writing chapters will-hopefully-be much easier!**

 **Happy birthday to Harry Potter and J.K. Rowling!**


	6. Chapter 6

René woke up feeling disoriented. She didn't know where she was and why she was still in yesterday's clothes. It took a minute to figure out that yesterday's clothes was one of her witch robes. It took longer to realize that the curtains she had pulled tight around her bed were open and her trunk misplaced across the room.

It became even more apparent that it had been searched. None of her things were where they had been placed two days before and most of her robes were strewn across the floor.

After last night's dinner, she expected this type of behaviour from her peers, but it still upset her to no end. She was to be ostracized far more than any halfblood that got into the pureblood house. And now her reputation for being a Slytherin will make it harder to make new friends.

René sighed and, for once, was glad she woke up before the sun. It let her have a chance to explore the school and maybe watch the sunrise.

Watching the sunrise was one of her favorite activities at home and watching it in a foreign place was to be a comforting experience. Not only would it be the same sun that always rises and sets, but in the Scottish mountain, it would be a new, beautiful sight.

The prospect of seeing the beauty filled her mind, draining the negative emotions from her mind as she quickly got dressed and put her school bag together.

René's appreciation for waking early tripled as she fought her drowsy mind to remember which way they had come from last night. The staircases twisted and turned and _moved_ and brought her anywhere _but_ where she wanted to go. The halls all looked the same except for the portraits that moved as well.

She was growing frustrated by the sentience of the castle, of how its own aura of deep violet pulsed in a sort of laughing way as it watched the lone student wander the halls.

Many instances did she meet students' pets, mostly cats, of brown and black and orange, although all with a clear blue glow. There was one cat she came across with an orange glow that she was tempted to pet.

But, the books had a word to describe a human turned animal-Animagus-and she thought better of petting it. Petting an animagus, one that would probably be a professor, was awkward. Instead, René smiled knowingly at it and walked by it.

The rest of the trip passed quickly as René took in the magic of the castle. It was different, far more so, than any wizard or witch she had the chance to observe. It moved freely and never stayed put. As René noticed that, she could see how each pulse registered with how the stairs moved and when. That a small pulse of the aura shifted the stairs a hundred-eighty degrees, and a longer, deeper pulse shifted them to a whole new area. How a short pulse that barely did anything would shorten or elongate the stairs and moved them to a whole a new floor.

Those observations made it much easier to navigate to the Great Hall and outside.

And then she greatly regretted not going back to sleep. She _knew_ that she had been wandering the castle for almost an hour, and the air was still cold and the sun hadn't risen half way.

But instead of complaining, René sat on the cold, stone stairs and took out her Transfiguration textbook, _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ , and a muggle pen she brought and started writing notes in the margin. The process had already been completed with the rest of her books, some having more notes than others-questions to ask the professors, different methods that could work, or random scientific methods that explained or contradicted the magic.

René could hardly wait for classes to start; the very idea caused her to smile in excitement. Nothing could kill the joy she felt!

By Friday, René knew she had been wrong in her belief.

The classes were fun, albeit boring and tedious. Each professor calling names to know everybody and faces, each giving a speech of how magic was important and how this class wouldn't be like the others.

Herbology, taught by Professor Sprout, was interesting. Knowing the latin names for the plants helped and René was paired with Terry Boot from Ravenclaw. He ignored her if she ignored him, though they did share some ideas of the plants. They weren't going to mess with plants until October or November, it was just _how to_ for now.

They met on Tuesday at midnight to "study the stars and bodies of the sky", as Professor Sinistra would say. René enjoyed the quiet of the night as the tired students walked up to the Astronomy Tower. The stars were beautiful as well, Professor Sinistra pointing out many constellations that first night.

Everyone quickly realized that History of Magic would be the time to sleep ot goof off. Professor Binns was an elderly ghost who had died years ago and still went to his job. He refused to give up his position and taught with a boring, monotone voice.

It was becoming one of René's favourite classes. It gave her time to read or study the ghost. The beginnings of the Goblin War was more detailed as he explained; more so than _A History of Magic._ Though the textbook held more in-depth realizations of _why_ everything started. It was all so fascinating.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was taught by a buffoon. The same buffoon whose inky black stained his head and the class terrified René. It all gave a bad feeling. The Slytherins joked about his stutter behind his back and more than once did René hear a snide about them being related.

Charms was another interesting class, though they were just learning the theories and movements until Halloween. Apparently, the way to understand Charms and Jinxes was to learn about its theory.

Transfigurations was the only class before Friday that René saw Hermione and Neville in. They crowded around one table immediately and exchanged smiles after paying attention to Professor McGonagall.

She was strict and clever and spoke with a stern voice as soon as the lesson started.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She carefully brought out her wand and silently cast the desk to turn into a pig. René wondered just _where_ the extra molecules and atoms went and _how_ they came back as the pig was turned into a desk. It was a serious conundrum to someone who loved science and hardly believed in magic just two months before.

A series of grueling notes came after until they could finally perform a simple spell. Turning a match into a needle.

 _Magic is a form of art and it works differently for every witch and wizard. Each witch will have their own way of performing magic: erratic and inexperienced, smooth and connected, short and fast. Any combination of anything. For me, I have always had to be relaxed and focused, though always quick movements to fulfill my best attempts. My mother had to just think and it would happen, although she commented that it also depends on personality._

 _For a beginner, I would suggest you are focused, tensed possibly. Imagine what you want to happen in your mind and force your magical core and mental will into it. You need control before a technique, and the best way to learn control is to focus. You move you wand (or hand, or staff) in the direction and the way you were taught. Focus on the magic and it will work. When you gain experience, you won't have to use nearly as many movements or thoughts, though it is still advised._

 _Your magic core is activated when you use your magic. It sometimes acts as a pull or tug or nothing at all, but an experienced user can easily locate and harness its power. It acts as your soul but is far different. If a Dementor were to Kiss you, you would lose your soul. But on many cases, there have been Accidental Magic after a Kiss. They are tied and raveled together and once can hardly function without the other. A muggle has learnt to live without magic and their soul does not require it to live._

 _2_

 _When transfiguring an object, it has always helped me to focus and imagine the object turning into the other. Start with colour and then shapes. Feel the magic turning in your core and watch as it leaps out and graces the object with its touch._

 _For I have spelled this book, this Grimoire, to only touch my Descendants' hands. If any other were to attempt to steal it, they would get a strong desire to not. It has been warded and protected for your safety._

 _34_

René's match turned into a needle quickly, silver and pointy and smooth. She turned it in her hand as Professor McGonagall walked through the room.

A jab in her side made her turn to Hermione and Neville, both with shocked faces.

"How did you? So quickly?" was Neville's stuttered question.

"How did who do _what,_ Mr. Longbottom?" Apparently the professor had ears of a cat as she stalked over to their group of three. In response, René held up the needle sheepishly, though a smile graced her lips. She felt pride at the small accomplishment.

Professor McGonagall took the needle from her and studied it, bringing out her own wand and testing it. She finally nodded before handing back the needle and smiling.

"Try turning it back. Five points for Slytherin."

René nodded and looked back at the needle. Twirling her wand, she focused her magic and turned it back to a match.

Hermione humphed before smiling, a jealous glint in her eye. "Care to help us?"

"Y-you need to f-focus. It isn't ab-about just the w-words and motions. It's a-also about focus. Watch in you m-mind as it ch-changes. Then poor y-y-your magic i-into the words." René cringed as the last word was said. It barely made sense to her and she was trying to explain it. What was she thinking?

Either way, both Neville and Hermione ended up with a needle at the end of the lesson.

And today, Friday, was another class with her friends. One that sounded interesting and brilliant and relatively close to science.

Potions.

It came right in the morning and was easily findable after watching the sun and without breakfast, put her first in class. A seat in front.

Since Tuesday, René hadn't been eating breakfast or lunch. The looks and talk of her fellow students had affected her more than she had initially thought. Her trunk had been upturned every day and her robes had been shredded at least twice. She was reluctant to turn up at dinner even though it was required by all students.

It was the words that hurt the most. Not anything powerful or immediately rude, but repeated by at least ten students a day, even if she couldn't hear them, it was bad.

Being first in class was serene for René. Getting away from her bigoted classmates and the stares. The only one who had it worse was Harry Potter, which she noticed Hermione talking to once in a while. His red-headed friend, the Weasley, had a less than pleased look whenever this happened, probably jealous.

It also gave her a chance to scope out the room and determine that she would let Hermione and Neville work together. And since no Gryffindor would work with a Slytherin, and no other Slytherin would work with her, she was to work alone.

Which was great for her, she worked better by herself. René smiled as she waited for the class to begin, absolutely enjoyed about the prospect of science in magic.

When Hermione, Neville, Harry, and Ron all entered the room, Ron and Harry trailed to a table next to René's, and, after a pointed glare, Neville and Hermione joined the table on the other side.

Class started when Professor Snape called roll call and, immediately calling her first, middle, and last name, stopped and sneered.

"Ah, yes," he started in small voice. It was drawling and so different than the sharp tones used two months ago. The hidden knowledge in it drew René in as he continued to speak. "Harry Potter. Our new-celebrity."

Draco and his goons that had no brain cells snickered from behind the two Gryffindors. The professor finished calling everybody's names and spoke softly, his voice commanding attention.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the sense…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death-if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Silence met the end of his beginning speech as he started walking between rows. René's eyes followed every movement, the words of making _those specific_ potions enrapturing. She leaned forward in her stool as he came back to the front of the class before whirling on the table next to hers.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to and infusion of wormwood?" the professor snapped. There was a strange emotion in his eyes that disappeared nearly as quickly.

René's mind raced as she pieced two puzzles together.

The Draught of Living Death could be made with those two ingredients as long with valerian sprigs, a sloth brain, juice of a sopophorous bean, and regular wormwood. Just and infusion of wormwood and powdered root of asphodel would make a mess.

The second puzzle was an instinctual reaction of piecing plants together. Her hobby finally coming into the light.

 _I bitterly regret Lily's death._

Thank Merlin it was Victorian Era. It could have been modern and she would never have known.

René bit her lip as one puzzle cam into place last. Snape inadvertently caused Lily Potter's death and just admitted it. It made her so much more aware of the people in the room and how the professor cryptically turned his soul over.

She was shook out of her thoughts as Harry quietly spoke in an embarrassed voice. "I don't know, sir."

Professor Snape's expression turned into a sneer, obviously smug that that was Harry's answer. "Tut tut-fame clearly isn't everything. Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Any respect René had thought she had for her Head of House was instantly gone. Fame meant nothing in the world, least of all intelligence. He was hating on a student for some reason known only to him. But, she would have to tolerate her Head's actions, even if she didn't agree with them.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

René finally realised Hermione's hand was nearly touching the ceiling and that Neville was looking panicked and scared. She herself had started feeling hesitant at the professor's animosity. The answers were found in the second and third year textbooks, and how Snape expected them to know was beyond her imagination.

"I don't know. I think Hermione does, though, why don't you ask her?" Harry said sarcastically. Most of the Slyhterins laughed and René felt worry blossom in her stomach. Worry for the boy she hadn't talked to and for Harry as she saw a murderous gleam enter Snape's eyes.

"Sit down!" he roared at Hermione, and she visibly deflated. She was smart and liked answering teachers' questions. To be denied that, René could tell, was depressing.

René did the only thing she thought in that moment, anxiety and all things hesitant out of her mind as she watched her friend deflate. She raised her hand and waited to be called on.

Snape's eyes roamed the room and caught on René, panic filling her lungs as he sneered and narrowed his eyes.

"What is it, Miss Opsal?"

René caught hold of her sleeve as she looked down at the table. She needed to calm and fidget so she could answer.

"W-w-with all die r-respect, S-sir… but I-I th-think you sh-should g-give Hermione a-a chance. P-picking o-o-only one Harry s-seems un-unfair… Es-espeically if those qu-questions come fr-from later textbooks." René breathed out as her heart thumped against her chest and her body heated up. She shouldn't have done that. There was too much to risk now and it was only a question.

But, her mind answered, he hurt a friend's feelings.

Hermione and Harry looked grateful as everybody's faces reflected with surprise. René smiled at the group before facing the professor once more. She refused to meet his eyes though as her stomach curled and tossed.

"Then pray tell, Miss Opsal. _What_ were the answers to these questions?" She could hear venom dripping from his voice and the only sound being in the room.

"W-w-with powd-dered r-root of a-a-asphodel and an in-infusion of w-wormwood, a-among m-m-many o-other ingred-dients, you should be c-capable of m-making the D-Draught of Living Death. You w-would find a bezoar in a g-goat's stomach, and th-the only difference between monkshood and wolf-wolfsbane i-is the spelling. It-it's also called a-aconite." As she kept answering questions, she gained more confidence and the stutter was less prominent.

The room was holding their breath as they waited for the verdict. René nearly felt sick to her stomach as she kept wringing her hands through her robe.

"Correct, Miss Opsal. I suggest you don't stand up for anybody again," he looked to the rest of the class and his sneer doubled. "Why aren't you writing this down?" There was a sudden scurry for a quill and parchment as mutters quickly rose.

" _I_ would've written it down if I could understand her," she heard someone mutter behind her. René slumped a but before looking towards her friends again. Hermione was smiling and Neville looked worried. She sent a smile towards them before looking forward again.

Snape wrote instructions on the board, a potion to cure boils, and set them to work.

René knew immediately that there were some things wrong with the ingredients, the scientist in her pulling details together faster than they should. She had read about what each and every ingredient did and whomever had written the book had not utilized this potion to its best potency.

She went to work, finally glad that she was amazing at science. She looked up at the recipe a couple of times to check times and amounts before delving into her work. She hadn't been bothered by any classmates nor the Potion Master and she finished the potion quicker than any of her classmates.

She looked up to see Hermione scrutinizing the steps and Neville about to add porcupine quills. _Without_ taking the cauldron off the fire.

Without thinking, she called quietly over Harry and Ron's table. "Neville! Take it off the fire first!"

It was suddenly a lot quieter as Snape stopped praising Malfoy for his potion. Hermione looked up from where she copied the recipe down and looked horrified at what Neville was going to do.

Hermione took the cauldron off the fire as Snape stalked back to the front of the room.

"Opsal, why aren't you working?" he snapped. René looked to her teacher before holding up the vial that held the green substance.

"I-I've already f-finished, sir. There w-were a few st-steps y-you could skip so I t-took ad-advantage of th-that fact," she replied and set the vial down without any noise.

Though his face didn't change, she could see surprise and satisfaction bloom behind her professor's eyes.

"Very well," at this, he turned towards Neville and snarled. "Idiot boy! I suppose you don't know what would have happened if you added the quills while the fire was still going?"

From the back there came cursing and a loud hissing sound. René turned to see Crabbe and Goyle's cauldron turned to a glob as the boys sprang up and out of the range. Everybody stood on their table or stool as the glob of potion burnt through tables. Luckily, nobody was hurt, but there were quite a few moans as some people closest to them had their own cauldron eaten by the glob.

Snape expertly raised his wand with a sneer and had the mess disappeared before it could reach him. He was seething as he turned to Crabbe and Goyle and started helping them fix the potion whilst yelling at them.

René turned back to a pale Neville, "That. That's wh-what would happen."

By the end of the class, nearly everybody had an acceptable potion, even if not by the professor's standards.

It was René's last class of the morning and she took more time than the others to clean her station and pack up. There was a question on her mind, two actually, that she wanted to ask her Head of House.

With nerves, she stood up, dizzy spots clouding her vision before fading away. She chalked it up to the lack of food and liquids from the last week, and walked to the front desk.

"E-excuse me, Pr-professor Snape/' she asked quietly.

"What is it, Miss Opsal?" his gaze was filled with annoyance and screamed to leave him alone, but he didn't act on it.

"T-two th-things. Uh, w-why were th-the instructions f-for the potion… difficult?" she sounded unsure before shaking her head. "I m-mean, th-the way w-we were s-supposed to make it, c-could have b-been different and m-made in an easier w-way." René trailed off and messed with her hands in a nervous tick.

Snape seemed surprised at her question before responding in a drawl. But it was more engaged then when he was teaching a class, as it was almost more entertaining than teaching them.

"Because most dunderheads would not understand the difference between these sets of instructions and which would produce a higher potent potion. Each child, if having to choose between the two recipes, would choose differently. Miss Granger would undoubtedly pick the longer of the two recipes, whilst Mr. Potter would pick the shorter of the two.

"What I am teaching, for now, is the basics of how to follow directions. Which, as shown by Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle, some of you can't even do. _That's_ why I will not give you all an easy way out." Snape stopped speaking as René nodded. She understood what he was saying and it made sense.

" _What_ was the second question you wanted to ask me?"

René froze for a moment, mind going blank as she debated silently with herself.

"What is the possibility of me getting my own dorm"she quietly and slowly asked.

Snape raised an eyebrow and spoke just as slowly. "If you don't have a reasonable reason, then, none. _Why_ do you ask?"

René wringed her hands and looked around. "M-my dorm mates d-don't n-necessarily like me. E-Every m-morning so far I have woken up t-to my r-robes shredded and trunk upturned. I-I don't w-want to b-be late to a-a class j-just b-because m-my classmates don't like me. Y-you know?" She winced at her last word and how she was whining just slightly. He was intimidating, he must've been so as a child as well.

To her surprise, Snape nodded once. "I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore and I will let you know tomorrow. Now, get out, Miss Opsal."

She quickly exited the room and smiled. There was a possibility that she wouldn't have to share a dorm room with her classmates.

She had one more thing to ask today.

René always dreaded going to dinner and being ostracized by her House, but she had a different idea now.

When she entered the Great Hall, she ventured left instead of right and towards where Hermione and Neville had been sitting with Harry and Ron. Mutters started breaking out as she stopped behind Hermione and Neville, and her eyes caught Harry's.

"I-is there r-room f-for me at th-this table?" Hermione and Neville quickly scooted over and left room for René. She sat down as the Gryffindors muttered awkwardly. Other tables were not permitted to sit at other Houses. Or, that had not happened for many years.

"Why are you sitting at the Gryffindor table?" Ron asked, slightly rudely as well. It was understandable though, a Slytherin at the Gryffindor table. A plant in the sea of lava.

"B-because I h-have found Gryffindors m-much more pleasant th-than Slytherins."

Ron nodded in acceptance before gaining a sheepish look. "Uh, what is your name?"

René smiled softly, "K-Katherine. But I-I go by René."

There was a pause as the food appeared and everybody piled their plates.

"Well, René, thank you for standing up for us Gryffindors today. Would it be possible to be friends?" It was Harry who talked and held out his hand for a handshake.

René took a moment to study it and grabbed it. Smiling, she said, "I would like that."

Her smile fell a little as she spotted a blemish on his orange glow. It was the same black glow that was on her professor's head. And the same one that was on her Head's forearm.

And it came in the way of a lightning scar.

(4421)

 **Fun Fact #6: One of my middle names is actually Opsal. It was my great-grandparent's last name.**


	7. Chapter 7

René rarely had trouble sleeping. The last time she could remember failing to fall asleep was when she was seven and fully realized she could see and talk to ghosts. She could barely sleep an hour a night for weeks. Her work slipped and Esther noticed. She was the only one to get René to open up about the ghosts. Her grandmother was weird, why _wouldn't_ she understand?

"Tell me, Katherine, why haven't you been sleeping?" Esther was the only one who called her by her actual name, unless she got in trouble. Esther's hand rested on René's shoulder as she struggled on a simple mathematics problem. It wasn't rare that she blanked on an answer, but this occurrence had been happening more frequently. Esther hadn't ignored the dark bags under her eyes or the stress shining in them. It was strange for the seven year old girl, and Esther was determined to find out why. And how she was keeping it from her sons.

René jumped at the hand on her shoulder and processed the words. The shock of the question settled in quickly. She had to think of something quickly; she didn't think anybody would believe what she saw. Ghosts and spirits were not read, she had to be hallucinating.

"I-I don't kn-know wh-what you m-mean. O-of course I-I have been sl-sleeping," she responded. She didn't even lie. She was sleeping, just not as much as she should have been, and she understood what her grandmother meant by the question. She tucked a strand a strand of hair behind her ear and went back to the problem on algebra. Tears pricked her eyes, she _hated_ lying, but she didn't want to alarm her family. How selfish would that be?

Esther sighed and went to the kitchen. She had brewed a potion last night, a calming draught, and she hadn't wanted to spike their afternoon tea with anything. But, René was stubborn and she needed to relax. If this was the only way, then she would do so. It didn't feel right, but it needed to be done. When people were calm, especially by magic, they revealed more.

Esther took the drinks out and sat opposite of René. This is how they usually sat, René in the armchair and Esther on the floral patterned couch. She set René's cup on the left side of her work and took a sip of her own. The Earl Grey had a bitter, citrus aftertaste from how the calming draught reacted with the tea and its ingredients. If you took a calming draught naturally, it had a more concentrated, pure effect, and it tasted much more vile.

René noticed her grandmother's reaction-the slumped shoulders and the laid-back posture. She seemed relaxed all of a sudden, and it was a mystery as to why. It was baffling, but René picked up her tea and smiled. Despite her stressful weeks, tea will always be the same. It was warm and it smelled nice, and always calm.

She could feel her own shoulders slump and her mind uncloud. A wave of drowsiness settled in and she set the tea cup down, an overwhelming urge to sleep suddenly draped over her mind. All worries had exited her mind and she suddenly realized how sleep deprived she really was.

She was safe here, she could sleep. Her grandmother would protect her from any ghost. She could _sleep._

"Katherine," Esther's voice broke through the fogginess and René looked up. Everything was blurred as her will power shut down, the adrenaline running out. "Katherine, why haven't you been sleeping?"

She hesitated in answering, the ghosts and how many she sees suddenly coming back. In this room alone, there were three. Esther's parents and her brother. They stood behind the couch and all three of them were smiling; all of them were wearing a weird attire, a cloak of some sort, and they each held a stick.

They were weird, always smiling around Esther. They sometimes trailed after René, but most of the time, they were conversing in hushed tones.

René took another moment to think before sighing, the words begging to come out. "I-I've been sc-scared. I ca-can see spirits and I-I di-didn't know and now I'm t-t-too scared to sl-sleep or wa-walk and everything is j-j-just," she pause, hands shaking. "Th-there. Ever-everything is just _there!_ A-a-and it sh-shouldn't be r-real, but it is!" She ducked her head, awaiting a freakout from her grandmother.

Esther's eyes widened, whatever she was expecting, it was _not_ that. Ghosts were common in the magical world, their magic never fully dissipated and they could for years. Seeing regular spirits, the ones without magic, was a trait placed in random magical children, typically a hereditary trait. Their magica bundled up so closely that it pierces the veil and can see the muggle spirits, can see their souls leave their bodies. But the ability had died over two centuries ago, nobody speaking up about any semblance of it. Some people say that the hereditary line, Sterban, had died with no heir. There were rumours that they just hid from the world and the constant tries to talk to their loved ones.

Her voice was soothing as she spoke, velvety over the ocean. Her granddaughter had to be comforted, and if that meant putting questions aside, then so what? She moved to René's side and hugged her, softly stroking her hair. "It's okay. I believe you. If you don't want me to, I won't tell Evan or Adam. It will be our little secret." René paused, worrying Esther. She didn't _want_ to tell her fathers, Evan could be a bit much, but she would tell them if need be. She just didn't want to worry either of them.

"I-I…" she trailed off before nodding once. The calming draught had made her more tired calm than Esther originally believed.

"If you need to, you can sleep. I will protect you from any of the ghosts. You, darling, need sleep."

René didn't argue and fell asleep quickly, exhaustion and safety taking over her body and mind. Surviving on an hour a night of sleep for a week is difficult and once she _knew_ someone would look after her, she could easily fall asleep.

René sat up in her bed, awake even when everybody in her House had slept. It was quiet and eerie and reminded her of those sleepless nights. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at the cold, stone floor and contemplating on what she could do. Sleep decided to elude her tonight, despite her wishes to sleep, and she will need something to entertain her mind for the night.

She had spent the rest of Friday night in the library with Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Harry attempting to do homework-only she and Hermione actually finished. The boys were whispering about the Gringotts Break-In Harry's birthday; the very same day Hagrid removed a package for Hogwarts.

Hermione shut it down, explaining that whoever had caused the break-in was powerful enough to get past all the anti-warding spells _and_ have the magic to open the vault by themselves, and that whatever happened there, the boys should not discuss.

René commented that, if need be, they could always attempt to find more information, but doing so right now would be stupid.

The conversation was stopped after the librarian-Madam Pince-ordered all students out and back to their common rooms before curfew; and with promises to meet them at breakfast tomorrow, parted ways.

With no homework, and no desire to read her own books, her best idea was to relax in the common room with a book from the Slytherin library. It was an educational and comfortable plan, and she could very well fall asleep out there, hidden in the corner-she got up before everybody anyway.

René nodded once to herself and threw on a pair of socks so her feet wouldn't freeze. Whoever thought to _not_ put heating charms in the dungeons, clearly deserved a prize for being a sadist. Late nights where students studied or just couldn't sleep should never be kept cold. The cold _did_ make people fall asleep easier, but it was not a restful sleep.

René crept towards the door and quietly exited the room, making sure not to wake the other Slytherin girls. Waking them would be horrendous, and she wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

René was surprised when she realized she wasn't the only one awake. It was at least eleven, there were no clocks at Hogwarts, technology did not mix well with magic apparently, and most students were determined to catch up on sleep they missed after the first week. But seeing the mop of platinum hair hanging off the side of a chair and book rested in his hands, surprised her, but also alarmed her. He was the main ringleader of the Slytherin males, the Slytherin Prince as Pansy Parkinson would say.

All the Slytherin girls already fawned over him, yet René turned a blind eye. She wasn't all that interested in relationships, had never really considered it either. Despite the gossip and talk of relationships held in her dorm room and around the halls, it never occurred to her.

René walked to the library side of the common room, attracting Draco's gaze as she came closer. She just wanted to read a book, and not one she had read over and over. It was awkward and quiet, and she scanned the books so she could quickly sit down and read.

"I didn't expect you to be out here, mudblood. Too unaccustomed to beds to sleep in one?" Draco's voice was condescending, leering attention René. She looked questionly at the boy; did purebloods seriously believe that? That muggleborns didn't sleep in beds?

Draco rolled his eyes before looking back at his own book, "I was kidding. I know muggles have beds."

René grabbed a book, one on fourth year defense spells, and sat in a chair opposite of Draco. There was something about his last name that she found familiar. The Malfoys were known around the Wizarding World. There were a few Malfoys mentioned throughout history, and his father, Lucius, was quite an influence among the Ministry of Magic.

A couple of pages into the defense book, René sat up straight and looked at Draco. She finally realized _why_ she recognized his last name. "M-my pa was a friend of y-yours."

Draco looked up from his book, a disbelieving yet curious look on his face. "My father would never befriend a _muggle_ ," he spat, turning his curious look into a glare.

"Th-that "muggle" is a pu-pureblood w-wizard named Evan S-Smith," she retorted, meeting his glare with an annoyed look. These wizards assume too much. Evan was two years younger than Lucius, but they became fast acquaintances, before friends.

Draco's eyes widened imperceptibly, almost paling at the name. His father _had_ mentioned the name in high regard. And once Draco finally asked _why_ he was so important, he learnt many things.

One being that Evan Smith and his mother were blood traitors. Muggle-loving blood traitors that turned their backs on magic.

The second was that though they were blood traitors, they were still related to the founder Helga Hufflepuff herself, and that meant befriending the family. It was true that Evan's siblings were Sorted into Slytherin, but they wanted nothing to do with the Malfoys.

Lucius then went on to say that _where_ the blood comes from is always important, and those pure pureblood lines were always to be kept close.

Draco kept his father's words close to heart as he looked at the mudblood in front of him. "But you're a mudblood! How does a pureblood father fit into that?"

René sighed, shaking her head, "H-he isn't my r-real father. He's m-my _step_ father. B-but, he's family." She explained for him, messing with edges of the book as she sat indian style in the chair. He was the first to know that Evan was her stepfather, putting him in some position of power, but it was her fault for letting it get out.

Her companion nodded in thought. He will write to his father about his. A mudblood with a strong, old pureblooded family. One that dates back to _before_ Hogwarts was established, and if he himself should befriend the mudblood. For now, he would have the be neutral with her, until he receives a reply.

"I… must apologize for my actions before. I can't say anything about the rest of the Slytherins, but finding about your father is enlightening. I can't promise to be nice, but I would like to start over as your only companion in Slytherin," he bargains, putting his own book down and sitting properly. He holds his hand out, grey eyes lit with determination.

René looked at his hand briefly, before looking at him in disbelief. He didn't believe her to be stupid, did he? She can see why he was placed in Slytherin, the Prince really _was_ cunning. To fully trust him as a companion would be idiotic, especially since it would only be because of her name.

Still, she found herself appealing to the idea of someone in Slytherin being _nice_ or _neutral_ with her. Even if the reason was only because of her father, the thought was comforting. Especially since the name Malfoy was everywhere.

She takes his hand in a firm grip, the book falling closed and to the ground. "Th-this does _not_ mean that w-we are friends." It would be good to make some connections anyway, she had the Longbottoms and Grangers, but everybody else were just acquaintances.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, pulling his hand back. For someone who was always nervous, she has a strong grip. "Obviously. If I started being _friendly_ towards you, the House would have both of our heads."

She nodded in understanding, picking up her book and going to the page she last ended on. She feigned looking at it, but was instead looking over his orange glow. She had noticed that a few of the students had larger glows, beginning to take their life source. There was a Hufflepuff she had noticed in the Great Hall whose glow was almost at the end of their line. The student was happy and ignorant to it all, but it was there.

As she studied the glow more, just looking at it, it seemed to hold more information-white letters making words. A date and names and adjectives.

Her eyes widened at the white letters, before they disappeared back into the orange. She felt drained, tired as she looked at the book, eyes trailing the words but her mind wasn't present. Her mind was still seeing the white words, wondering what they were. They were elegantly written in the glow, never ranging outside of it, and they seemed to be _about_ Draco. She shook her head out of the drowsiness she suddenly felt, moving her attention to the fourth year book she held.

It was quiet between them for a couple of pages, before Draco spoke up again.

"How did you change the match into a needle so quickly?" he asked, looking curiously at the girl. He hadn't missed the sudden tiredness that overcame her, her shoulders had slumped and eyes were half shut. His father had taught him to always look for sudden discrepancies in behaviour. It wouldn't be smart to let her fall asleep out here.

She looked at him curiously, before realization dawned. "I-I j-just imagined the changes. Tr-transfiguration, you have to have a-a good idea as to w _hat_ you w-want to change the object into. Th-the average weight and s-s-size and colour."

Draco nodded slowly, understanding what she meant, before standing up suddenly and holding a hand out to her. "Thank you. But, we should get to bed, you look ready to pass out, and it wouldn't be wise to sleep out here." It was easy to speak to her as an equal, the news of her family _was_ enlightening. Even if it wasn't biological.

She closed the book and stood, ignoring his hand, and put the book back on the shelf. She stood awkwardly, before nodding in farewell. "I-I'll see y-you tomorrow," she muttered, stumbling a few steps before heading to her dorm room. She just became acquaintances with Draco Malfoy.

René collapsed in her bed, falling asleep immediately, her energy being sapped from whatever the white characters were.

Saturday breakfast René sat with the Gryffindors, eating a small portion, but mostly sitting with her friends. Ronald was happily chatting about Quidditch (a game on brooms. Brooms!) with Neville, Harry commenting on asking questions.

Hermione and René were talking about their classes, helping one another when they didn't quite understand the material. René didn't understand what they had learnt in Astrology, and Hermione wanted to discuss the logistics in what made Merlin so great.

It was in the middle of an argument that the owls entered the Great Hall, each one diving to the person they have mail for.

René studied them for a moment before turning turning to Hermione, questions gleaming in her eyes. "H-how do th-they know who to deliver th l-letters to?" she asked her friend. The owls knew _exactly_ where to go and who to go to, and it was baffling.

"Owls are perceived to be intelligent, but they're actually dumber than most other species of birds. My only guess is these are magical species of owls, all bred with magic and tracking charms placed on them," Hermione responded, turning her head as two owls landed in front of René, each one carrying a letter.

One of them was a pure black colour who took to snatching Ronald's toast out of his hand and scarfing it down, ignoring the indignant yell that came from the boy.

The other was a brown, tawny owl that held out its leg for René to untie the letter. It seemed more sophisticated than the black one, holding itself in a higher manner as it looked around the Hall.

René untied both of the letters, sending the owls flying back out and to the Owlery to rest before going back to their original places.

"Who're they from?" Ronald asked, his mouth full with his breakfast. He didn't have the best table manners, and Hermione had already attempted to correct it twice this morning.

René studied the writing on the front of both the letters, before shrugging. "I-I don't know. One's from my f-fathers, th-the other is from…" she looked at the one from the tawny owl, observing the familiar writing that addressed her as _Miss. Opsal._ "I don't know."

She opened the one from her fathers first, their handwriting switching on and off.

 _Dear René,_

 _We heard about which House you got into. Neither of us are disappointed, more surprised. From what Evan has told me, I would have guessed Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would suit you, but Slytherin sounds… unlikely. No matter what, though, I am proud of you. You will have to tell us all about it and how you are liking it. I wanna hear about Hogwarts from you, okay? Don't make me worry too much, please. I miss you already._

 _Please, stay safe, sweetheart. Don't antagonize your fellow Slytherins by knowing everything, and if needed, curse them. Don't get in trouble by doing so. Also, if things start to escalate, let a professor know, write us, just stay safe. I know what Slytherins are capable of doing. Protect yourself and don't turn into somebody you would hate._

It went on like that for several pages, handwriting mixing as they added in their own input, and René smiled as they got off topic multiple times. There was one occasion when they started arguing over the types of tea which would fit the best House-her dad didn't understand the entire topic-and was only documented by his handwriting. Evan had more than likely responded out loud and decided to keep that paper in there. She was glad they did, it provided a sense of familiarity that she greatly appreciated.

She neatly folded the letter and set it in her robe pocket, choosing to keep it close. It was the first letter she had received, and it provided the comfort that neither of her fathers had been mad or disappointed in her Sorting.

The other note was quick and straight to the point, telling her to meet her Head of House in his office after lunch.

She set that one aside and went back to her breakfast, answering the questions her friends threw at her about the letters.

Hermione and Neville, and subsequently Harry and Ronald, had decided to tag along with her to her meeting with Professor Snape. They were curious as to _why_ she was meeting with the "Dungeon Bat"- _"Professor Snape._ Show some respect at least!

"Due to how I-I was being tr-treated by my p-peers, I requested a d-dorm to myself."

They were walking slowly through the halls, strange looks being sent their way. There was one Slytherin and four Gryffindors travelling together to the dungeons, it was unseen before-at least in a friendly manner.

"So you're going to have a dorm all to yourself? That's really cool!" Ronald exclaimed, pausing in his steps slightly before hurrying back to his regular pace. "Nobody has had their own dorm for generations! You're so lucky!" there was a hint of jealousy in his voice as he continued, though Hermione did end up rolling her eyes and René smiled softly.

"If you guys ever need to, y-you could always st-stay for a while. W-wandering late around the castle or ju-just need to get away, you are al-always welcome. I-I am a light sleeper," René commented, shrugging. She trusted these people; they were kind to her and they were her first group of friends, of course she would offer her dorm room to them.

"Are you sure? We wouldn't want to intrude," Harry spoke up, seeming to be uncertain. René turned quickly, walking backwards, and nodded, before spinning around again.

"I'll probably g-get lonely anyway. I'm not used to being by myself," she responded, blue eyes glowing in the light. She felt proud. Her stuttering wasn't as common as the first day she met Hermione and Neville, and Neville gave her a smile.

It was relatively quiet the rest of the way, though René could sense hers and her friend's worry rising. Professor Snape _was_ an intimidating teacher, and she had subconsciously started fidgeting with her sleeves. After yesterday, none of the Gryffindors wanted to face the horrifying Slytherin Head until the next class.

René knocked on the Head's office door softly, stepping back politely and waiting. She could feel her heart hammering through her chest. Knocking on doors was always more nerve-wracking than many actions. But, she was comforted by the auras of her friends, the soft orange glow seen from her peripheral vision. It really did calm her.

The door opened quickly in a dramatic way that made everything flare. The professor's robes swished and he stood there with a glare. The sudden movements made the group step back quickly, squeaks coming from two of the students.

Professor Snape eyed the lot of them, before resting on René. " _What_ is it that you insufferable lot _want_?" He spoke with barely concealed hatred and annoyance, and his stance clearly showed that-he didn't want to be near any of them.

There was a comforting nudge on René's arm from Hermione, who smiled softly. "It's, uh, a-after lunch, S-Sir," she replied, avoiding eye contact and instead stared at the ground.

There was a pause that made the air awkward, before their professor replied. "I _know_ that, Miss. Opsal. I was asking the group of Gryffindors you have foolishly decided to befriend."

René nodded once, though fought the urge to roll her eyes. If he was addressing her friends, then he wouldn't have been staring at her, but she just backed up another step. She wasn't going to argue with him or address how he was wrong with whom he was speaking to-she'd already had too much contact with him.

It was Hermione who answered Professor Snape, in a polite and even tone that wouldn't have come from any of the males. "We're just tagging along with René. It won't be a bother, will it? She already said we could come with and she wouldn't mind."

Snape shot them all a look, before stepping out of his office and closing the door. "Of course not." He immediately started walking, heading down the long hallways with long strides that the small group had to jog to catch up with him.

"Your belongings are already in your new dorm, along with a notice board that is hooked to the common room's, and a bathroom. It will be your dorm until you leave Hogwarts or decide you want to move back into the Slytherin common room," he explained quickly, before stopping in front of a plain oak door not too far from the actual Slytherin dorms.

"This will be the entrance to your room. No one will be able to open it unless they have explicit permission and the password.

"Now, to claim a dorm as yours, lay your hand on the door and connect your magic to the schools'. Once you're connected to the school, state your full name, house, and what you want as a password. I hope someone of your intellect can at least choose a password and keep it a secret from others," the professor basically growled out. This was playing favourites, and he personally thought his student could use strengthening, but Dumbledore agreed to her request of a dorm.

René lay her hand on the door and closed her eyes, relaxing as she opened her mind and attempted to feel the schools' magic, and even her own. She imagined her own magic concentrating in her hand, the violet of the school connecting with the orange. A sigh escaped her lips as the magic brushed her fingertips; it was cool and comforting, reassuring in a way.

"Katherine René Opsal, House Slytherin," she stated in a clear voice. It held no stutter or any hesitance. The magic accepted her, and she paused as she thought of a good password. It took a good minute, before she nodded to herself. "Stark," she again stated, and she was suddenly released of the magic, as she pulled her hand away as quickly as possible. She didn't like the amount of power that came with the school, even though it was tempting.

She stood there blinking at the door for a moment before Snape started to speak. "Unless you have any questions, I will be going. Don't make me regret asking about this, Miss. Opsal," he warned, turning swiftly and stalking off.

The group watched him stalk off, before turning back to the door. It was a door you would find in a flat or to the entry of a muggle house. One hundred ninety-eight centimetres (six and a half feet) tall, one hundred six centimetres (three and a half feet) wide, and a plain brown colour that was out of place on the stone walls.

René cautiously stepped forward and whispered, "Stark," before the door swung open automatically, swinging inward to reveal the room. It was a deep green colour that was big enough for her friends to stay the night, but smaller than the actual dorms. There were multiple windows that looked into the Black Lake, the water clear and able to let the sun shine through.

There was a bookshelf next to a fireplace on one side, and a bed with green blankets tucked into the corner on the opposite side. Her trunk was at the foot of the bed, lined up perfectly, corner to corner, there was one door that likely lead to the bathroom. Next to the entrance, there was a pin board for the notices, a paper already on there. She scanned it briefly as her friends gawked at the room.

"It seems l-like we have flying class to-together," she mumbled to herself, before waving the Gryffindors over. The five of them were distracted by the room, but the flying lessons soon brought their minds back.

Neville let out a soft groan, before heading to look out the windows, almost deflating at the news. Ronald, on the other hand, cheered. "We finally get to learn to fly! I've flown before, but Fred and George taught me. Not everything they saw is accurate, but this will be brilliant!"

Harry started an adamant conversation with the boy about flying, as Hermione stepped up next to René. "Why Stark? I know of the comics of Iron Man and how his civilian name is Tony Stark, but why Stark?"

"It means strong i-in German. I th-though it could be g-good luck," she replied, casually walking over to her trunk. She now had her own personal bookcase to place any books she got, and moving in seemed nice.

Hermione followed, frowning. "I didn't know you knew German. I know some French because my parents and I go there frequently, but I've always been interested."

"I-I'm not _as_ fluent as I co-could be, but I g-guess I'm okay at it." René ended up picking up half of the books while Hermione grabbed the other half. "I should b-be better at it in a few y-years."

Hermione nodded, setting the abundance of books on the shelves, before stepping away. "Do you mind if I looked at a couple of your books sometime? You have a few I've never seen before and they seem interesting."

"Sure." René stood back from the bookshelf, before walking back over to the boys-Neville had rejoined the other two, a smile on her face. No more bullying or repairing clothes and books in her own dorm room. Just waking up and getting ready for magical learning.

She waited patiently for the conversation to end-they got back onto the topic of Quidditch, Ronald and Neville explaining the rules to Harry-before she spoke softly.

"I would like to set a f-few rules for ent-entrance to my room, j-just in case." Once her friends' attention was on her, René ducked her head, shrinking under it.

"One, _please_ always knock. I-I don't care if it's three in the afternoon or three in the morning, j-just knock.

"T-two. If I tell y-you to get-t out, then get out. No ifs, ands, or buts.

"Th-three. Un-unless you have permission, pl-please don't be in the room w-without-t me.

"Four. Just… respect my pr-privacy please.

"A-and five, th-this is a n-no conflict z-zone. No fight-ting." She mentally reviewed the list, before nodding once. That was all she could think of. She smiled up at them as they all nodded silently. They were fair rules.

"N-now, please leave for now. I'll meet you a-at dinner." They all left without a fight, and with goodbyes from each of them; Neville and Hermione hugged René before leaving, a warm feeling blossoming in her heart.

René let out a sigh. This week, compared to ones at home, were filled with people and social interactions. It had helped with her anxiety a bit, she had noticed. She wasn't as nervous or fidgety, nor did she have such an urge to listen to music. It was better and words. She didn't know how to act in public, so that made everything worse, but she was pulling through.

She ended up collapsing on her bed, curled with a book she checked out from the library that morning, mentally preparing herself for the next week.

(5404)

 **Fun Fact #7: I don't control these characters, they do whatever they want to as I struggle to keep up, so I apologize if they seem OOC.**

 **Also, I thank those who commented and favourited! You guys are amazing, and if you ever have questions, just ask!**

 **My next update should be on Halloween, and I will try my hardest to make that happen.**


	8. Chapter 8

Flying class _did not_ go as planned.

The Slytherins had Herbology before the flying lessons, so they arrived quickly. Madam Hooch, the flying professor, was already waiting for them with twenty broomsticks laid out on the ground in two rows.

The Gryffindors arrived in minutes, and they stood in one line, the Slytherins in the other, facing one another. René was on the end, on the complete opposite side of her group of friends. A female Gryffindor named Sophie Roper stood across from her in constant murmuring with another Gryffindor named Sally-Anne ("Just Anne is fine!") Perks. Both had blonde hair, but Sophie had green eyes whereas anne had brown. Otherwise, they could pass off as twins of each other.

Once everybody was standing by a broom, Madam Hooch started teaching. "Stick out your right hand over your broom, and sat 'Up!'"

There was a chorus of shouts, in which multiple shouts were resulted in the broom jumping into their hand, or it lolling around lazily.

A few brooms didn't move at all. René's was one of the few that didn't. In fact, she didn't say anything at all. The thought of flying was horrifying, and heights in general made her legs weak. Walking up the main stairs was difficult considering they overlooked the entire school. They _moved_ as well, and she hated that. Classrooms on higher stories, however, were okay. They were stable and had little risk of falling.

Instead, René stood in fear, hand out but no words escaping. She didn't _want_ to fly, she _wanted_ her feet to stay on the ground. No zooming about or going as high as the castle. She couldn't.

She was frozen.

Beside her, Draco gently nudged her, as most of the students finally got their brooms in hand. Their acquaintance-ship had strengthened over the past few days, and René was grateful for the encouraging nudge, but she _could not_ go in the air.

When she was the last one to not have their broom in their hand, Madam Hooch marched over and asked-demanded-why she hadn't even made an _attempt_ to try.

All that came out was a small squeak of noise, breath catching in humiliation. She didn't like the negative attention, or the fear that was keeping her down. She shrank in on herself and took a small, half-step back. It was pathetic, but she felt sick. Just the thought of being up in the air, if she was actually to head up in the air. Being sick or passing out was a possibility.

Madam Hooch looked understanding and nodded, "I'll let Severus know that you won't be attending this class anymore, but you have to stay for the class period." She turned back to the class, addressing them, "If anyone else has acrophobia, they should speak up now or continue on with the class."

It took a minute before both Sophie Roper and Sally-Anne Perks set their brooms down and moved off to the side. René hesitantly went over to join them as Madam Hooch returned to teaching.

Sally-Anne turned to René and spoke softly, "Thanks. I know we didn't actually show it, but 'Phie and I both felt sick." René responded with a shaky smile and nodded, before sitting on the ground. She felt safe being grounded. It would have been nice to fly, but she couldn't have gone through with it.

She tuned Madam Hooch out as she started instructing the others. It doesn't pertain to her anyway. Instead, she contemplated everything that she had 'filed' away.

First was the glows. Everybody had them, and everyone of them was orange. Animals were different, and so were magical creatures, but they had a different molecular system, so it made sense. What she had no idea about was what they _were._ In the Grimoire, they were referenced multiple times, but they were never _explained._ They were significant though, she could tell that from how the author spoke of them.

Without knowing who wrote the book, she had no idea how to contact them or figure out what they meant. It didn't help that the original author was likely dead. There were a few, random comments written by others on the side, asking questions or clarifying a certain passage, or adding their own notes.

She had no idea _what_ most of it meant. There was specific passages for spells that would be considered dark; rituals to revive the dead; blood spells that would keep you from dying; cures for vampires, werewolves, any other creatures-but only used in a certain amount of time; and other passages explaining why a certain one shouldn't be used.

René, again, mentally filed the Grimoire and glows away, bringing up the second agenda. That forbidden third _corridor_. It wasn't just a room, but a _corridor._ Who in their right mind would have a place in a school that would end in absolute death?

And the deliberate mention of it by the Headmaster whilst looking at Harry. The Headmaster obviously had a plan surrounding Harry and that third floor, but she didn't have any evidence but the foreboding feeling.

She delved deeper into those thoughts, but was interrupted by Madam Hooch shouting.

"Come back, boy!" René raised her head enough to see Neville rising in the air, his knuckles clenched around the broomstick, stark white and looking absolutely terrified.

She rose to her feet fast enough to see him slip off the broom and plummet to the ground rather painfully-if the snap and yelp was to be accounted for.

There was a brief moment where nobody moved, shock evident on their faces, before everybody rushed towards him-Slytherin and Gryffindor rivalry be damned, someone was hurt!

Madam Hooch bent over Neville, muttering multiple spells, before helping him rise, careful not to touch his wrist. "Broken wrist," she muttered, more to herself than anyone, before beginning to lead him off to the castle. She called over her shoulder as the Slytherins backed away, making sure to put enough distance between everyone to show that they didn't care.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Neville followed Madam Hooch, face teared and white, and small, almost inaudible whimpers escaped him. Every student waited in a tense, shocked silence. Brooms were dangerous, flying was dangerous. It was tense and, for once, the Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry didn't bother anybody as they watched their classmate be escorted to the hospital wing.

It lasted not even a minute, before a hesitant, forced-but believable-laugh came from Draco, most of the Slytherins following.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?"

René shook her head in disappointment. She knew he was trying, and that he was a Slytherin and trying to fit in, but Neville was still one of her friends.

One of the Gryffindors, Parvati, if René remembered correctly, looked angry, before she snapped. "Shut up, Malfoy."

There was a murmur of agreement and René felt gratitude for the little, brave lion. Just about nobody stood up to Malfoy as often as they should, and it was amazing that anybody did.

"Oo, sticking up for Longbottom? Never thought _you'd_ like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

The comment from Pansy made Parvati silence herself and blush, before she took a step back from the confrontation, fists clenched. René could see the anger in her eyes, for both Malfoy and Pansy, but she made no move to act upon it.

"Look!" Malfoy yelled, snatching something out of the grass and tossing it in the air. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

René was confused for a second and vowed to herself that she would stop missing breakfast for nature. It wasn't healthy or productive.

She stepped forward a half-step and quietly muttered, "Give it, Malfoy." She was surprised to hear a voice mix with hers, and looked back at the group where Harry looked just as angry as Parvati.

Malfoy jolted back in surprise. He expected Potter to stand up to him, not René, _and_ this entire week, she had been using his first name, not his last. That must mean messing with her friends in the way he was was problematic for this trust relationship, and his Father would not want to hear his failure.

But, he had already started this ruse, he couldn't quit it _now._ He had to keep up the appearance to his fellow Slytherins.

It happened faster than René could process. Words were exchanged and Harry and Malfoy were suddenly in the air on broomsticks, Hermione yelling in protest and Ronald cheering Harry on.

"Wh-what the _Hell_ are they thinking?" René muttered, moving to stand beside Hermione. Either one of them could get hurt, and she didn't want either of them to be.

In a second, both boys were on the ground, one smugly smiling as he watched something off in the distance and on that held Neville's gift, wearing a proud smile.

She spent a second wondering what Malfoy was looking so smug about, before jumping at the shriek that came close by.

"HARRY POTTER!" René had never seen someone's look change so quickly. Harry's proud smile fell as he froze, back ramrod straight and terror marking his features.

 _"Never_ -in all my time at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall's glasses flashed dangerously, her entire posture screaming danger. "How _dare_ you-might had broken your neck-"

René grabbed Hermione's hand as she spoke up to say something, quietly halting her from speaking. Harry wouldn't be expelled, he was the Boy-Who-Lived, it would basically be a crime.

Hermione glared at her, but nodded, understanding the pointed look to Harry's scar.

"Potter, follow me," Professor McGonagall ordered, turning sharply on her heel and leading the boy away from the group.

As soon as the professor was quite a ways away, René turned to Malfoy, fury burning in her eyes. Fury and worry and fear.

"What the _Hell_ , Malfoy?"

René woke that night to a pounding at her door. Eyes bleary, and her senses dulled, she answered, surprised when she was pushed out of the way and multiple bodies entered her room in quick succession.

Each of her friends were breathing heavily, Neville hyperventilating in-what René believed to be-fear. Hermione was leaning against the door, head in hands and muttering quietly between her own deep breaths. Harry and Ronald had collapsed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in fear and exhaustion.

René was about to ask what had happened, when Hermione beat her to it.

"I _told_ you it was a bad idea! I _told_ you and you didn't _listen!_ " Hermione just about yelled. As René took a closer look, they all looked terrified, and Neville slid down the wall he was leaning against. René walked towards him, and knelt down, rubbing his back.

"P-put your head b-between your knees. It h-helps, I swear. And take d-deep breaths." He nodded once, doing as he was told. It took a while, but he eventually calmed down.

She smiled at him, but jumped as Ronald shouted at Hermione.

"We were _not_ going to be seen as cowards! We are in _Gryffindor_ , for Merlin's sake! If we didn't go, we would be seen as cowards!"

"He didn't even show up! We should have known that! _You_ should have known that!"

"I thought that _slimy Slytherin_ would have stayed true to an honour duel! Of _course_ he didn't, because _all_ Slytherins are cowards!" Ronald's face was as red as his hair. He stood up quickly, fists clenched and face scrunched in anger. René felt a pang at his words, but pushed it down.

" _ENOUGH!"_ René shouted, adding as much power in her voice as she could, stutter non-existent as she glared at both Ronald and Hermione. They both looked back at her, though Ronald's was more of a glare, but both paused their argument to face the tired René.

" _What_ are y-you guys arguing about?" It was stated as a demand, but phrased as a question. She had missed dinner because she was in the school library looking up books of auras and wasn't watching the time, and she suspected that whatever had happened, had started there.

"Malfoy challenged Harry to a wizard's duel at midnight-"

" _I_ tried to stop them, but they wouldn't _listen!_ "

"-and I was chosen to be his second, in case if, you know, anything happened. When we got there, Malfoy wasn't there. That slimy, disgusting Slytherin tricked us!" Ronald cut off, muttering curses under his breath and looking angrier than he had been.

Harry spoke up next, speaking quietly and wincing at his own words. "Filch almost caught us. Thankfully, Hermione knew the Aloha charm-"

" _Alohomora!_ "

"-but, we ended up in the forbidden third corridor. There's a three headed dog up there!" At this, Neville let out a whimper, hiding his face in his hands.

René took a moment, digesting the information thrown at her, kneeling quietly next to Neville.

" _What_ made you accept a w-wizarding duel? Malfoy w-was obviously tr-trying to get you in tr-trouble. He's a natural born S-Slytherin, he's sly a-and manipulative!" Those statements were true, but René felt like it didn't make him a _bad_ person.

"That's what I was trying to tell them, but they wouldn't listen!"

"Of _course_ we wouldn't listen to you! You're a bloody bookworm that has mistakenly found herself in Gryffindor! And you," Ronald spun to face René, his glare doubled. "You're one of those slimy, manipulative Slytherins! Why should we listen to you?"

The room seemed to freeze as the words exited Ronald's mouth. Everyone froze up and looked at him in shock. His own eyes had widened with the words, regretting them as soon as they came out. René's mind was running more than it usually did. She should had known one of them would pull that card at some point, but the words still immensely hurt.

She was too tired to cry about it, and she wasn't close to Ronald, but this would be the first friend she would lose.

"Get out." Her voice was calm and quiet as she stared blankly at the Weasley. She needed sleep, that's what she needed, and Ronald crossed a line.

"W-What?"

"I-I said, get out. At the moment, you, Ronald Bilius Weasley, are not w-welcome here." He flinched at his middle name, and René felt a sickening pride. The name had just appeared in the orange glow, just as it had with Malfoy. Despite her stutters, her voice held a warning, a powerful tone.

Everybody froze again, the room seeming to suffocate them with tension. It was so different to the regular atmosphere in the room, the usual, caring vibe replaced with the opposite.

Without a response, Ronald stormed out of the room, Harry not far behind after he sent an apologetic look towards René. When the door closed, René's shoulders slumped, drowsiness overcoming her. Before anybody could say anything, she walked to her trunk and pulled out clothing for Neville and extra blankets she had packed.

"I-if you guys w-want to st-stay the night, y-you can. I w-wake up early, s-so I'll probably wake you up so y-you can get back to y-your common room," René said with a small, ingenuine smile. Neville nodded and took the clothes she offered him-a blue, men's jumper she 'borrowed' from her pa, and a pair of sweats-and muttered a quiet thank you.

As he headed to the bathroom to change from his robe-Hermione was in a night-robe-Hermione asked René, "Are you okay?" It was a stupid question, but it was the thought that counts.

It took a while for René to sort out her drowsiness and the actual feelings. She was… angry and regretful. Those two were the most prominent feelings, but all she did was shrug.

"I still have y-you two, don't I? I-I'm good."

It was October 31, a Thursday, and Halloween-exactly seven weeks since Ronald Weasley had blown up and stormed out. None of the two groups had made René or Ronald talk to one another. In fact, Ronald had stopped talking to anybody nicely except the Gryffindor boys, and René had stopped talking except to Hermione, Neville, and teachers. Malfoy had attempted to apologize for his behaviour, but it wasn't sincere. He didn't apologize to Neville or Harry for potentially getting him expelled. He only cared about her _stupid_ name and relations.

It was Halloween and many songs were bouncing around in René's head. "Thriller", the "Ghostbusters Theme", "Witch Doctor", and the "Monster Mash". They were always played on Halloween, along with a few more, and they were now foremost in her brain. It caused her to smile as she did her work.

Since she had been able to get out of flying class, she was in Professor Snape's classroom. Luckily, he had no class at the same time, or else she would have had to participate in that class-that would have been awkward. Instead, it was quiet and peaceful, slightly intimidating as well, the two used to the pattern that happens every Thursday.

Not only was it peaceful, but René felt comforted and safe in the room.

"Would you _stop_ your humming?" Professor Snape snapped, looking up from whatever essay he was correcting.

René was confused as she looked up from the charms levitation essay she was writing. It was taking longer than usual, her mind clouded with songs and countless questions. It took a moment before she realized she was tapping a pen-she brought ten with her to Hogwarts, they were easier to use than quills-to the beat of "Thriller", and was probably humming along.

She furrowed her brows and muttered quietly, "Apologies. I-I didn't ev-even realize I w-was humming." And thus began the silence.

The classroom seemed empty now, bar the scratching of the quill and occasional scribble that pens made. It was-surprisingly-irritating to the professor, the background noise was actually welcomed, helped him concentrate. He was used to noises his students made, and it unnerved him to have a quiet a classroom with a student in it.

He finally sighed, setting his own work down and half glared at René, annoyed that he couldn't concentrate anymore.

" _What_ were you humming, Miss. Opsal?"

His questions startled her again, and she tilted her head just slightly. "It was, uh, M-Michael J-Jackson's "Thriller". H-he's a muggle singer, and "Thriller" i-is considered a-a Halloween song. At home, w-we played it during Ha-Halloween. It's just stuck in my head. A-again, apologies," she stuttered out, avoiding looking at him. It was awkward, a one-on-one conversation with professors.

He nodded, "There was a group of muggleborns six years ago that broke into song and dance during the Halloween Feast. The Headmaster let them off free, despite my protests for reprimandation."

René let out a breath of a laugh, before focusing back on her work, humming softly again and a smile on her face. There was no more talk between the two.

The Feast was extravagant, live bats fluttering overhead, Jack-O-Lanterns where the candles usually floated. The tablecloths that usually matched the Houses' colours were black and orange, and the entire room smelled as pumpkins and cinnamon.

René headed to the Gryffindor table, to her regular seat next to Neville, when she noted Hermione's absence. Hermione _never_ missed a meal-even berated René when she skipped or missed one. Her rule abiding self was at the beginning of every meal, never wanting to be late for _anything._

 _"_ Hey, uh, Neville… where's H-Hermione?" The question seemed to hush the table, despite her quiet tone. They had gotten used to the Slytherin sitting at the table, some even beginning to sit at other tables as well. Each person sitting at the table glanced at René, before turning on Ronald, his face burning at the attention.

Neville responded in a hushed tone, "Ron insulted her during Charms because she corrected his pronunciation of the levitating charm. Parvati and Lavender said she was in the first floor girl's toilets."

René nodded, standing up quickly and quietly exiting the room. One of her friends was in distress, so she was going to find them. A code among friends, she would do the same for Neville.

Worry and a gut feeling sprung in both her chest and stomach, but set it aside. She would deal with that later, but for now, she was determined to find her friend. The friends that was trying to help but got insulted.

She entered the toilets, hearing the sniffling in the last stall cease when the door opened. If it were not for the shuddering breaths, René would have believed that Hermione wasn't in there at all.

"Hermione?"

There was a surprised noise before the stall opened and René got pulled in by her friend, her face blotched and eyes red. She looked tired, like she had been crying for the majority of the day-she probably had-and René immediately wrapped her in a hug. She wasn't always good at feelings, they seemed foreign at times, some strange thing that attacked people at random, but she knew how to calm people down. She had to calm herself down too many times before.

"I-I don't know what _Ronald_ said, b-but I-I can assure you it's wrong. Y-you're a-a brilliant, b-beautiful witch who c-can do anything she puts her m-mind to." Hermione squeezed René tighter in a hug, even though she was taller than the girl by a lot.

"H-he said I didn't have any friends. I mean, I know I do, I have you and Neville, and possibly Harry, but you guys are my first real friends who have never had problems with me. My muggle schoolmates didn't like me, I was too quirky, too queer. And I'm afraid you will cease being my friends too. I… don't want that to happen. I _enjoy_ having genuine friends." Hermione sighed, her voice quivering and tears threatening to fall again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to emotionally dump all of this on you."

René shook her head. "I-I don't care. I'm relatively the same. I-I was homeschooled b-because of my st-stutter and pr-prone to blowups. Y-you and Neville are my first fr-friends. I wouldn't leave you, and n-neither would Neville. Besides, who would make sure our h-homework was correct?"

Hermione laughed through her tears at the poor joke before nodding. "Thanks René, I… I needed to hear that."

René broke the hug, the physical affection lasting longer than needed, and gave her friend a small smile. "Let's g-go to the Feast. It looked a-amazing, and it st-stinks in here."

The feeling of worry had increased and she knew why as soon as she opened the stall door, closing it as fast and quietly as she could.

"Wha-" Hermione's sentence was cut off by René slapping her hand over Hermione's mouth.

She shook her head, eyes wide, in a warning, mouthing the word, "Troll," once, twice, three times before Hermione's eyes widened.

René removed her hand from Hermione's mouth and tapped her own nose, before crouching down, Hermione following suit. Just in time, too, for the top of the stalls were gone, and both girls screamed.

"Troll-in the dungeons-thought you ought to know," Quirrell squeaked before fainting. Everything was in a tense silence before a second year Hufflepuff screamed, most everybody joining in, 280 voices screeching loudly.

Draco frowned to himself, looking over the chaos to try to spot the muggleborn Slytherin. He had been trying his best to gain her favour again, but it wasn't working. Everything he tried was rebounded with a glare or was ignored. It was infuriating, but he could understand why.

Headmaster Dumbledore, done with the rambunctious crowd, shot off multiple purple fireworks. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

The Slytherins all grumbled, refusing to get up, but Draco did, walking over to the Gryffindors, three in particular. He had no idea what had possessed him to do so, but he acted upon it.

Once reaching Longbottom, Weasley, and Potter, he smirked slightly. "I can't help but to notice your muggleborn friends are missing. I could be of assistance. There _is_ a troll roaming about, and neither of them know about it."

None of three answered for half a second. Weasley was red in the face, and Longbottom looked frightened, but Potter was the one who answered.

"As long as you don't cause any more trouble than there is, you can come. Just don't get in the way."

And the group of unlikely four-the Slytherin Prince, the Longbottom heir, the youngest Weasley son, and the Boy Who Lived-was off. Off to save the last two of the strange lot-the brightest witch of their age and the muggleborn Slytherin.

Whatever came over René, she had no idea. All she knew was she was standing face to face with the grey aura-ed troll, wand in hand.

"Pr-protego!" Her wand arm was shaking as she backed up slowly, fear growing in the pit of her stomach and her breathing sped up. She was feeling dizzy and Hermione was shrieking in the corner, frozen in fear, except for the continuous high-pitched noise. René dived out of the way of the troll's club on instinct and silently cursed herself. Of course the bloody spell didn't work. It was an upperclassmen spell that required much more magic than she held.

Not to mention the room was spinning and she felt like collapsing to her knees and crying. The stench was terrible, but the troll looked worse, grotesque and deformed.

The door burst open to reveal four males; three Gryffindors and a Slytherin, all with wands drawn and with an intent to save the two muggleborns.

The dizziness and fear overwhelmed René as she collapsed to the floor, knees buckling and eyesight growing dark, multiple people calling her name.

The four boys all slumped against the walls; knocking out the troll took more out of them than they originally thought-mentally and physically.

Everything was quiet-bar the heavy breaths-before Hermione shrieked again, sending everyone on edge. They looked to the troll, expecting it to move, but was shocked to see her rush to the fallen girl's side.

In the moment, they had forgotten about René, forgot that she collapsed. And now, the troll had fallen on her legs, crushing them, but it didn't look like they were broken.

The boys rushed over as well, jumping when the door was slammed open to reveal Professor McGonagall, Professor Quirrell, and Professor Snape. They paused, looking at the fallen student, before Professor McGonagall took charge.

"Severus, take her to the medical wing, inform Poppy about what has happened, tell her I will relay everything to her in half an hour."

Nobody spoke any protest as Professor Snape hurried over to the girl and moved the troll off of her. He picked René up carefully and hurried out of the room.

That left the group of seven, a mutual understanding coming between them.

One; the teachers would never find out _why_ the two muggleborns were in the bathroom in the first place.

Two; you couldn't defeat a troll without becoming friends-no matter the differences and attitudes.

(4647)

 **Fun Fact #8: I wrote this when I was half asleep, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize.**

 **Next update should be sometime around Thanksgiving (US)!**


	9. Chapter 9

She woke up confused and too weak to open her eyes. Confused, sore, and with something prodding at her leg. When the prodding disappeared, someone muttered, before prodding her legs again, but in a different spot. It happened a couple more times before a firm, yet gentle voice spoke up.

"Her legs were badly bruised from where the troll fell on them-it's a miracle they didn't break!-and she has a sprained wrist. From what I can tell, she passed out from a panic attack. For the next couple of days, she should take it easy-mentally that is. I can fix her physical wounds easily." There was a pause where fabric rustled, and René was tempted to open her eyes.

"I will make sure of that," a soft voice responded. It was silky and soothing and had a drawl to it. René almost smiled, the corners of her lips twitching, before it felt like too much effort. She wouldn't mind listening to the voice more, it was comforting.

There was another pause before the female's stern voice spoke up again. "This is your student with the sutter, yes?" There must have been an affirmation of some kind because she continued to speak. "The Diagnostic Spell showed that the stutter was due to a Silencing Charm put on her when she was a child. Her magic fights through it so she is able to speak. If it is alright with Miss. Opsal, I can reverse the long-term effects of the charm and she won't have to live with a stutter."

"Why are you telling me this, Poppy? As you said, it is up to Miss. Opsal if she wants to keep her insufferable stutter or not." The soothing voice came out harsher this time, and René faintly recognized it, but her mind was fuzzy and she couldn't place it.

Poppy sighed, "It is, but I know you keep a file on all of your snakes, Severus, more so than even Minerva. I figured you would like to know about the health of one of your snakes."

There was a small huff where Severus-Professor Snape, her brain lazily corrected-showed his annoyance. "I appreciate that, Poppy."

In the silence that followed, René slowly opened her eyes, blinking rapidly, even if all she wanted to do was close them. She raised herself onto her elbows and caught the sight of two adults.

"Oh dear, how do you feel?" the nurse questioned. She was short and slightly round-in a good way-with graying brown hair. Her brown eyes were shining with concern.

It took René longer than normal to gather her scattered and thin thoughts and to finally voice them. It was like this after a panic attack, her mind overworked and had too many emotions running through it.

"I, uh, f-feel okay, M-Ma'am. I-I'm sorry," it was an automatic response that came out of nowhere, but it is what it was.

"It isn't your fault, dear. All you need at the moment is rest. There is no need to apologize. It was very loyal to go after your friend."

"It _wasn't_ a loyal action to take. If that troll had hit you, you would be dead. The smart thing to do, Miss. Opsal, would have been to get a professor once you realized your friend was missing, not go chase after her." René's face flushed as she looked down. She was just worried for her friend and she hadn't known a troll was on the loose. If she knew something dangerous was in the castle, she _would_ have gone to get a professor.

"That being addressed, you will meet me for detention at four on Friday directly after classes, my office." There was a glare sent his way by the Matron, but René just nodded.

"O-of course, P-Professor. I-I'm sorry, a-again. Next ti-time someth-thing c-could po-potentially be dangerous, I'll l-let you kn-know." Her voice was quiet, but there was obvious remorse and Professor Snape nodded his head.

"Apology accepted, Miss. Opsal. I do expect to see you after classes tomorrow. For now, do as Madam Pomfrey says and you should be released by morning." Professor Snape stood there for a minute before turning and walking out, robes billowing dramatically.

Minutes after he stormed out, Professor McGonagall entered the hospital wing with five students trailing behind her, faces sheepish.

Hermione noticed where René was first, eyes lingering before she rushed forward and caught her in a hug.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have... " she paused quickly, glancing at where Professor McGonagall was talking to Madam Pomfrey. She dropped her voice, "I shouldn't have frozen in fear or got so upset because of Ron! You're okay though, right?"  
By now, Ron, Harry, Draco, and Neville had crowded around her bed and were sharing a look. It surprised René for Draco not to be arguing with the Gryffindors, but they seemed to be content with one another.

René nodded, "Yeah, I-I'll be okay. A-a bit sore and m-my head hurts, but that is a-all. N-no one else i-is hurt or an-anything?"  
Neville laughed softly, sounding a bit watery. The others gave her an incredulous looks, almost as if she was insane for asking that question. For a brief moment, René was worried one of them was hurt and sat up straighter to examine her friends. None of them seemed injured-at least visibly-but they all-including Draco-seemed slightly shaky.

Draco answered her question, pulling one hand through his hair and messing it up. "None of us were hurt-we're mostly worried about you, although we are a bit shaken up. We are... pleased that you are well."

"Pleased? I'm beyond relieved that you aren't hurt too bad! If either you or Hermione were hurt badly, I would have never forgiven myself!" Ron exclaimed, gesturing wildly and talking quickly. He sobered and looked awkward. "I'm, uh, sorry about my words… to both of you!" he hurried to amend. It looked as if he was about to say more, but a snort from Draco's direction stopped him.

"That's not how you apologize, Weasel. That was an incredibly weak attempt, not appropriate for a pureblood heir-even if you're sixth in line." Draco's words were sharp, but his tone was teasing. Ron's face was reddening, but Harry put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. "You may want to take a note of this as well, Longbottom. It'd do you well to learn more about the pureblood lifestyle." Neville blushed and Draco smirked.

He turned towards the two girls and his face changed to a more apologetic look, softening when he talked to them. He gave a small bow before standing straight. "I would like to apologize on behalf of the Malfoy family and Slytherin House for the hurtful words I have spared with you," he spared a look at René who raised an eyebrow.

"All of you actually. My mother aspired for me to befriend the people I wanted. My father ordered me to become acquainted with powerful families. I can now see that my mother had my best interests in her heart whereas my father was using me as a political pawn and," he paused, flushing. At war with himself, it was silent until he shook his head.

"I apologize. I was rambling. The point is, you lot don't seem too bad and I apologize for the way I have treated you before."

"It's alright Draco," when Neville said his name, Draco bristled, offended. Like he said, even the Longbottom should be learning pureblood customs. "Gran actually wanted me to befriend purebloods as well. As Regent, she expects me to make connections in school first and befriend later. It's tring, but she changed her mind after the second week of school when you took the Remembrall. She wanted me to make friends instead of allies," Neville spoke quickly and quietly, hesitant to say the words. He had let his grandmother down then, but everything turned out to be for the better.

"Actually, Malfoy, thanks for stealing Neville's Remembrall. If it hadn't been for you, Harry would have never made the team!"

That sparked a conversation between all four males about Quidditch, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Boys and their sports. There are many more books that have much more interesting tales." She spoke this to René who was leaning against her shoulder, hair matted to one side and half-asleep.

When Madam Pomfrey finished her conversation with Professor McGonagall, she was appalled to see so many students on one bed. But her heart warmed with the sight of them all sleeping peacefully.

Once again, just like with Hermione and Harry, their glows flared and returned, closer to their souls than before.

Δ

The next morning, René was released from the Hospital Wing, free to attend her leesons, but told her not to over exert her magic or mind. She had apparently strained them the night before-her magic having a large part in keeping her alive and instinctively telling her how to judge and something else the matron wasn't sure about.

Before she was allowed to escape and meet up with her friends, Madam Pomfrey had stopped her.

"If you want, we could remover that stutter of yours. Obviously not permanently-it would come back with high emotions-but at least, for normal day-to-day life, you could have no trouble with speaking."

This stopped René and any thoughts about meeting up with her friends fluttered away. She had had her stutter for as long as she could remember-cursing it when her thoughts jumbled and it just became worse. It had gotten so bad that Adam had finally sent her to a speech therapist who-after a year-declared her case hopeless. There was no logical explanation for her stutter and her dad had finally given up the hope of having it fixed.

Of course, now that there was a possibility that she _could_ have it fixed, it wasn't as stutter was part of her-like a scar or birthmark. She had a sentimental attachment to it, one that she hated. For ten, almost eleven years, she had lived with this detriment, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to have it gone.

"W-w-why haven't y-you used it t-to help P-Professor Q-Quirrell? He has a st-stut-ter too."

Madam Pomfrey frowned, crossing her arms as if the professor had personally offended her somehow. "He didn't accept my treatment. I offered it to him as soon as he got back from Albania and he refused." Her face quickly turned concerned, but she shook her head.

"I-I-don't know," René admitted quietly. It was a hard decision for her and she felt trapped either way. There were good qualities for both, but bad attributes attached to the good.

She would miss her stutter, how it made it her. But if she didn't take up this opportunity, she would regret it.

She was stuck.

Madam Pomfrey's expression softened before she nodded. "That's okay, dear. Let me know when you have an idea."

It was now the end of the day, and René had had nothing on her mind _but_ that choice.

That and the impending doom that was called 'Detention with Professor Snape'. She wasn't worried about it too much, but Harry-who had his first detention with him a couple of weeks ago-had warned her that they were grueling.

"He made me scrub the cauldrons by hand! It wasn't too difficult, what with all the cleaning I do at the Dursley's, I just didn't believe a teacher could _do_ that. Isn't that some sort of child labour?"  
Ron had laughed at Harry's remark, but it didn't do any good to calm her nerves-in fact, it made her even more nervous until Hermione glared at the two 'til silence.

"You two are so dense. Can't you see that you're making her even more nervous than need be?" It was true, René was pale and unfocused-though she wasn't sure if it was due to the conversation or the detention.

"Good thing you're a Slytherin," Draco commented. He raised an eyebrow at the others' looks and smirked. "All Slytherin detention with our Head is just a talk. Unless you did a terrible, disastrous thing, but this was a minor incident compared to others."

"A talk? With that snarky git? I'd rather scrub the cauldrons," Ron bemoaned, before he went back to his conversation with Neville. Since it was about plants and their magical properties, it was mostly one-sided.

And now René stood in front of Professor Snape's office door, just standing there. Meetings were difficult to begin with, knowing that she had done something wrong only made it worse, and she was dreading to knock on the door. It was stupid, she _knew_ it was, but she hated being wrong, hated being in trouble, and that just made everything worse.

She finally gathered all the courage she could muster, held her breath, and knocked on the door.

There was a brisk and sharp, "Enter!" that had her opening the door and quietly shutting it, before standing there awkwardly. The professor let her stand, not addressing her and letting her feed on her own fear, before he set aside a page filled with ink, black and red. "Sit, Miss. Opsal."

René sat and focused on her breathing and glanced around his office. The walls were covered in numerous potion ingredients and books, and there was a smoldering fireplace. Other than that, it was minimalistic and held nothing of sentimental value.

"Are you well, Miss. Opsal?" his voice betrayed no emotion but polite concern.

She nodded, "Y-yes, Sir. M-Madame Pomfrey is r-rather c-c-capable."

Professor Snap hummed, "Yes, she is." There was a pause and René settled her gaze on the professor's hands, clasped on his desk. Knowing it would be best to calm herself by focusing on one thing, she did.

His hands were calloused and slender-perfect for potion making, but René also found herself wondering if the dour Potions Master had ever played an instrument. A cello or piano would fit him well, moving across the strings or keys expertly. A Potions Master had to be a perfectionist, especially one so young, which would mean the music he would create would be of high quality as well.

She remembered his comment about "Thriller" and how he remembered it, and fought back a smirk. The professor probably did like music.

"Miss. Opsal, would you tell me what you were doing gallivanting out in the halls instead of staying in the Great Hall with the rest of your House? Why would you follow the foolish Gryffindors?" His words sharply cut through her thoughts and she raised her glance away from his hands and to his eyes, questions dancing around in hers. _Did_ he ever play an instrument?

She frowned, "What?"

Professor Snape sneered, "Eloquent, Miss. Opsal. Perhaps I should use words you would understand. Why were you out chasing after a troll during the Feast?"

René furrowed her brows, her curiosity turning to confusion. "I wasn't. I w-was there t-to calm Herm-m-mione down. R-Ronald had said s-something rude and sh-she hid in the b-bathroom the entire day. W-we didn't even _know_ a t-t-troll was o-out and about."

There was a pause of silence and René fidgeted. Did she say something wrong? Did he not believe her? She was sure in his story, but did the others tell the professors something different?

"From what I understand, Granger went after the troll when she heard about it at the Feast. Are you telling me that she lied?"

She froze. Of course it had to be the last, and they didn't tell her. And now, she was forced to make another decision-tell Professor Snape the truth and snitch on her friends, or join in on the lie and get in trouble for lying to a professor.

René ruled out the second option. She could lie, but it wouldn't be convincing, especially since she had already told the truth. It would be a terrible idea.

She did the only thing she could do and nodded.

"And where do Longbottom, Weasley, Malfoy, and _Potter_ come in?" Professor Snape spat out Potter, and René suddenly thought that telling him the truth was a bad thing for her friends.

"I-I don't know m-much, b-but they rushed i-in right b-before I-I passed out."

There was an awkward moment of silence before Professor Snape dismissed her, telling her that he would need a two-foot essay on how it was important to get a teacher-whether it was bullying or actual trouble.

Before she exited, she turned back to her Head, "H-how w-would we get help?"

"You ask, how else?" he was already back to grading, but looked up. "You're smarter than that, Miss. Opsal, so _why ask_ such a stupid quesion?"  
René smiled a bit at the praise, "I-it's just the P-Prefect told us t-to s-solve our own pr-problems and that y-you don't like being bothered."

Professor Snape frowned, "Then they have given false information in favour of making the first years and, consequently, the Slytherins look like fools. Do you know which Prefect said that?"

She shook her head, "N-no, Sir. I-I remember sh-she had br-brown hair though."

Professor Snape nodded, "Thank you. Now, leave."

Δ

"Did you seriously tell on us?" Ronald asked. It was a day later and the group of six had met up in the library. From what she knew, Gryffindor had lost 40 points and the four of them had gotten detention with Professor McGonagall, and Slytherin had lost 10 points, with Draco receiving a detention with Professor Snape-a true one.

René shrugged, "Y-you d-didn't tell me y-you guys had _lied._ I-I was unconscious f-for the explanation."

"She's right, you know. She never _did_ get an explanation," Neville cut in when it looked like Ronald was going to explode.

Seeing what Neville was heeding, Harry jumped in, "I ended up sticking my wand up the troll's nose." It started a laugh out of the entire group, even the ones who weren't there. It didn't seem real until they spoke about it.

"I ended up casting _Wingardium Leviosa_ properly and knocking it out! It was brilliant!" Ron half-yelled forgetting about his anger. He seemed proud and ended up puffing out his chest, an almost perfect copy of his brother Percy, before Madam Pince ended up at their table and shushing them. The librarian was stern and kept up a silent library when possible. Other times the library got so loud she gave up and cast a spell to keep her in her own bubble of quiet.

At least, that's what the older students have said.

René turned to Draco, Hermione, and Neville. "A-and what did y-you three do?"

Neville and Hermione flushed and looked away while Draco rolled his eyes, "While the Gryffindors were trying to knock out the lumbering thing, I tried to get Granger and you away from any potential danger. Longbottom. Longbottom and Granger were not any particular help as both were frozen and screaming their heads off."

Hermione huffed, "It was a full-grown mountain troll against a couple of first years who were just taught-and performed-their first spell _that day._ Of _course_ I was screaming, what other logical action was there?"  
"You could've _not_ screamed and froze. Even René tried to cast something before we came in!" Ronald exclaimed.

"What _did_ you try to cast?" Harry asked. He had been quiet for a while, watching the hurried discussion with a soft smile on his face and amusement in his eyes.

René flushed and ducked her head. She mumbled something under her breath.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. _What_ did you say?" It was Draco, a smug smirk on his face. She could tell he already knew what the spell was, and she glared at him.

"Th-the Shield Charm. _Protego_. It-It's typically t-taught to f-fourth years."

The ones who didn't know stood, mouths agape before Neville muttered, "So _that's_ what happened."

René furrowed her brows, a frown on her face, "That's how _what_ happened?"

"Before we could distract the troll, it swung at you rather vehemently," Harry said softly, watching René pale. In fact, he noted, everybody in their group looked pale. "Before the club could hit you, a pale blue shield protected you, but it shattered. I don't know _why_ it wasn't visible before hand."

"Powerful wizards and witches can perform the Shield Charm when in danger and subconsciously. Even fewer can do it without its colour. Most adults can hardly keep up a Shield Charm against a mountain troll's strength without collapsing," Draco explained. It sounded like he was repeating something from a book, almost exactly like Hermione did.

Neville nodded his agreement, "Yeah. Gran says it's because of the worthless Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers. They've been replaced every year since the fifties. The rumour has it that the position was cursed," he whispered conspiratorialy.

Hermione scoffed, an act most didn't expect would come from her. " _If_ there was a curse on the position, why hasn't Dumbledore gotten rid of it yet? He _is_ the most powerful wizard alive, after all."

Ron, Neville, and Harry nodded while Draco seemed taken aback. René was watching the conversation in interest, standing up and leaving the table, wandering about the library.

She didn't know how she felt about the Headmaster except he creeped her out. His eyes sparkled for some reason and declared unity for all but still watched the Slytherins with caution. In the Great Hall he watched the Gryffindor table interact, having eyes mainly for Harry's group. He looked upon her with distrust, she had noticed, but had done nothing to meddle with the group.

René grabbed an astronomy book from the shelf and flipped through it absentmindedly, some part of her finding it interesting.

Astronomy was, easily, her hardest subject. She didn't understand why the stars mattered to understanding magic. When she had asked an older student, he said it was for tradition. Most spells that had to do with the stars and planets were banned by the Ministry years ago.

Besides that, it was used to determine one's future. Whoever thought using a bunch of lifeless balls of gas to determine someone's future was an idiot.

She returned to the table where near silence was reigning above them all. Ron's face was as red as his hair and Harry stood standing, shocked and eyes wide, at Draco. Neville seemed to be shrinking into his chair and Hermione looked like her entire world had come crashing down.

René waited, book clutched to her chest, and waiting for the tension to diffuse. She couldn't just go up and ask 'what happened?' as there was something major going on. Doing that now may cut off people from their revelations.

Harry's broken, strained voice seemed to break through whatever tension had snuck up on them all. He sounded so broken, so hurt, bitter and angry as he spoke one sentence. "What do you mean Dumbledore left me with the Dursleys?"  
Hermione turned to Harry, exasperated, "Really? We just learnt about the Headmaster's role in the last war and you're worried about being left with your relatives? You just learnt- _we_ just learnt that Dumbledore had some radical group that _killed_ others. Most of them may have been Death Eaters and guilty, but _thousands_ of people-magicals and Muggles-were caught in the cross-fire and neither side bat an eye.

"We just learnt that bullying towards Slytherins is allowed and encouraged and the _esteemed_ Headmaster doesn't fix it. We just learnt that he is setting all of us up for some elaborate game of chess and you're worried about your relatives? What is _wrong_ with you?'

By the end, Hermione was standing and shouting, almost hysterical, not even caring about the heavy glares she was getting from Madam Pince. The other students seemed to have erected privacy and silency wards as soon they got into the library, and René made a note to look up wards like that for later uses.

Harry's face flashed through so many emotions in a matter of seconds-anger, remorse, sadness, anger, bitter, rage, shame-before settling on a blank mask most only found on Slytherins. "Yes, sorry, what _ever_ was I thinking? My life with the Dursleys is nearly inconsequential to the life of most," he bit out, sarcasm layering his words with just enough to make Draco and René narrow their eyes in suspicion, but not enough to make any of the Gryffindors catch on.

"Thank _you._ Now, as I was saying, we shouldn't trust Dumbledore then, not with all he's done an-"

"And how does _Draco_ know all of this? What is he's just trying to lead us all astray?" Ron asked, arms crossed and glaring at Hermione. "And what happened to you blindly following the rules and authority?"

Hermione froze, emotions in a turmoil on her face and in her eyes, before settling on an uncertainty. "I was fine with authority until they were unable to stop six first years from finding a troll. I was fine with them until they put the whole school in danger by sending them in opposite directions. I was fine with them before they let bullying get so out of hand that someone cries," she retorted, crossing her arms.

"I don't know _what_ adults Hogwarts are, but in the Muggle world, they would not be classified as suitable adults."

When they turned to Draco for his answer, he smirked, "I have sources that I shouldn't have and I won't be giving them up. I trust them, and I don't easily trust most."

Before Ron could explode, Neville jumped in, voice quivering. "The Longbottoms have always been a light family for as long as we could remember, but Gran says not to blindly follow Dumbledore. She doesn't trust him."

"I can't believe you lot! Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive! Why would anyone _not_ trust him unless they're dark?" When he did not get an answer, Ron stormed out of the library.

"Do you trust us, Malfoy?" Neville asked softly. It seemed lopsided, not having Ron there, but René took her seat and sat, staying quiet. Maybe she's right to not like the _great_ Dumbledore, but there was not enough evidence to be trusting, or enough to not trust him.

There was an insulted look on his face. "Of course I do. Do you trust me, that is the question." Only René nodded, but he seemed fine with that. He shrugged, "Trust is earned by the respected, guess I'm not that at the moment."

René put the book on the table, eager to change the subject. "C-can someone _p-please_ help me with the A-Astron-nomy essay? Th-the stars make n-no sense."

Hermione and Draco came to either side of her as Neville and Harry pulled out pieces of parchment. When Neville got up for more books, Harry jerkily dipped his quill into his ink and wrote, movements quick and sharp. It felt natural to write with a quill when, days before, he could barely hold one. Not only that, but his handwriting was coming out better than before.

René took out a Muggle pen and a quill. She had to get used to writing with a quill or she would, more than likely, fail her end of year exams just because of her incapability to use one.

"What don't you understand?" Hermione asked, looking over the notes René brought out. Draco was looking at the Muggle pen in curiosity.

"I-I… I can't find an-any stars. Th-they're all so cl-clustered together. A-and then ha-having to write when and why they relate to o-others is an-annoying. Wh-who cares ab-about a, a b-ball of gas th-that, by the t-time it reaches Earth, w-will be gone? W-we're looking at long g-gone balls of pl-plasma t-to determine someone's life a-and future. Why?"

Draco's eyes snapped from the pen to René, confusion evident on his face. "The stars were created by Muspells-heim's sparks. They're balls of fire that will never burn out. This is something children learn when they're five. What did _you guys_ learn?" He said you guys with a sneer, before schooling his expression. It was obviously a slight towards Muggles, but the two girls ignored it.

There was a confused silence, something was not adding up correctly and Muspells-heim-wasn't that from Norse Mythology? Regionally that would work, but how disconnected from the real were magicals?

"Science. W-we learnt science. M-myths h-have been disproven, f-for the most part. Th-the added p-part of magic i-is throwing m-me ff, but th-the basis of science, r-relating to the w-world and be-beyond, should still b-be true." René watched Draco blink before she sighed, "It-it's Muggle m-magic."

Draco, under any pretenses, had a blank mask he was supposed to wear. He learnt that from a young age, as did any pureblooded heir. It had been drilled into him since before he could walk. To rip it away and leave him outwardly floundering was a feat not many could do; to rip the world out from underneath him.

Muggles had magic. _Muggles_ had _magic._

The second person that day stood up and walked away, beliefs shattered to the ground.

René had been meaning to talk to her friends, but two had just ran away, looking like the world was crumbling around them. Now, she had to wait until they were all together to ask if she should take the potion.

Hermione's voice drones on, speaking excitedly about the topic of stars, while René thought.

It felt like something just clicked into place, something snapped and was locked in tight into how the world was working.

Nothing, not fate or any prophecy, could have changed what aspired then and there.

For the second time in the past two days, orange glowed fiercely dimmed on all six friends, oblivious except René.

She just watched in curiosity as it entangled with her friends, before tuning into Hermione.

(5146)

 **Fun Fact #9:** **I had this written by the date I promised, I just lost it until today. I have part of the next chapter written, so it shouldn't be as late as this one.**

 **A/N: I'm contemplating on changing the summary but I don't know to what. Also, if y'all haven't noticed, this will be AU to the extreme.**


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